


Wake Me When Its Over

by Xizuma



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Because Cosmos In The Lostbelt wasn't enough of a traumatizing event, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Horror, Male Protagonist, Now let's throw Ritsuka into Bloodborne!, Violence, but not during cosmos in the lostbelts, set after epic of remnants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xizuma/pseuds/Xizuma
Summary: He was unwillingly whisked away from Chaldea. Left, stranded, alone and isolated in this god forsaken town filled with endless beasts and horrors untold. No servants to help him, and forced to fight for his freedom. From the moment he set out, Ritsuka knew this was no singularity.This was a nightmare.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**WAKE ME WHEN IT'S OVER**

* * *

_It truly was astounding on how everything could go horribly wrong in just a mere moment._

_"Sempai!"_

_He really didn't deserve Mash. Despite how frail she had become ever since the Temple of Time and the Doctor... Roman's sacrifice, she was still as strong as ever. At least, for now. Her grip still held some strength as she held onto his arm like a lifeline. Behind her, Chaldean staff and alike arose in panic as the emergency lights blared._

_The Control Room's monitors went haywire. Da Vinci and others were hard at work._ _They're fingers typed away rapidly and shifted through the many screens above. Their efforts being futile as the screens glitched, the enrapturing portal trying to ensnare him being the likely cause as it increasingly turned narrow, yet big enough to hold him._

_Try as he might, his hold against her hand weakened and weakened by the second._

_Mash yelled out again, but the deafening noise of the portal warping him to gods know where blocked everything out as servants filled the room. It was too late, and the only thing Ritsuka could do was shout as he was fully pulled into the warp._

_The last thing he saw was Chaldea's symbol._

* * *

The clamping of hooves and trampling of leaves was the only sound Iosefka could hear as she gazed beyond the window of the horse drawn carriage.

She had grown used to the utter blackness of the night time in the woods. The trees masked in the darkness looked like black trunks against a bluish charcoal sky, the path would become deepest brown and the moonlight would bleach the stones within it.

Hadn't every painting of woods at night been like that? Even if there was a moon tonight its silvery rays would not penetrate the dense canopy above.

Yharnam was not too far, she had taken these roads countless of times and was familiar with the woods leading to the city by now. Various crates of blood stored in clean vials swished and groaned in their wooden confinement in the cart just behind hers. Secured tightly, of course.

Odeon knows just how prissy the Church would get if any blood were to be damaged. She knew first hand on how precious the crimson substance mattered in a city such as Yharnam. It was their prime attraction, afterall. Visitors from lands far and near would enter the city in search for cures and ailments, or for uncovering the many secrets the old city had over the centuries. Ironically though, Outsiders were treated badly by her fellow citizens. Shunned and shamed for only seeking help or for genuine curiosity.

Greedy and selfish, keeping their beloved healing medium to themselves. Even some of the healers and doctors she knew treated outsiders as if they were the cause of the Scourge of Beasts.

It was hypocritical and appalling, to be frank. She was a doctor, no matter the past or actions committed, a patient was still a patient.

She shook her head, neverminding those thoughts, idly flattening her white dress as the silent hum of her companion filled the small carriage room.

"Something on your mind, Norbert?" Iosefka asked the wheelchair bound man.

Norbert gave a small chuckle as he reclined slightly, leaning into the back of his old wheelchair as he tipped his withered hat. "Oh, nothing to worry about, Iosefka." Was all he said.

Iosefka didn't bother with a response or inquiry. She knew she would get no answers at the end. Norbert was clever in dancing around questions easily.

Even by standard Blood Ministers, old Norbert was by far one of the more older Ministers to have lived to this age. He had shown her the ropes back when she was young, yet he was cryptic and vague as he was when she was just a nurse in the clinic.

The man was wise just as he was ancient. He knew more than he let on, and in the many years she knew him, she was still clueless about him now as she was in the past.

Her eyes travelled back to the window, catching sight of a scene that worried her.

A heap of black laid bare on the cobblestone road. Furred arms with claws stuck out, dripping with blood, stained the road. Even with the distance she could recognize the beady red eyes and mutated snout and fangs that, once, was human.

A Beast.

Thankfully, it was dead. Curiously though, what she would have thought have been a bloody mess filled with carnage and entrails, a sign that meant of a hunter, was little more than a pool of blood surrounding the beast. A slash to the neck, indicating its death.

She frowned as they passed by the bleeding creature. Whoever did this was not as brutal or savage as the most hunters she had seen. The killer may not have been a hunter at all. The wound the beast supported was rough, as if the slayer was in a panic, which was likely in most cases, yet minimally messy, accurate to where the jugular was found, almost as if the beast's killer knew what they were doing, but was clumsy all the same.

Before she could think of anything else, the carriage stopped to an abrupt end. She gave a soft yelp, the cart shaking in response as the horses neighed. Norbert gave a grunt of irritation. Taking a look back to the cart behind them, she gave a sigh of relief as the vials of blood didn't look harmed.

She turned to the front. "Why have we stopped?" Iosefka questioned with a frown.

In front of them, the carriage driver gave a grunt as he looked back. "Sorry about that Ma'am! The horses seem to have stumbled upon something!" The Yharmanite said with a grunt, fiddling with the lantern to fix it.

Her frown still on her face, she stood up and opened the carriage door. Grabbing a hand lantern from the seat, she stepped out and into the front of the carriage as the driver calmed down the horses so she could check the disturbance. Lifting the lantern, she took a good look at the road blockade.

Her eyes widened.

 _"By Odeon!"_ She gave a horrified gasp.

A body of a male laid down on the road. Black hair was scattered and unfurled, stained with dried blood; crimson. As was the clothes that were once pristine white. His trousers were cut and torn in various places, as was his top. Curiously, the back of his right hand held a strange red mark of some sort, firmly engraved to the skin. In his other hand was a bloodied and broken blade that was shattered to the base.

Whoever this was, must have been the one to have killed the beast she had seen. Tragically though, it meant a beast had claimed another, she realized. Sighing sadly, she crouched down and took a closer look.

Death was a common happening among those who had crossed paths with beasts. Moreso if ones occupation was that of a hunter.

Then she heard deep and shallow breaths coming from the presumed dead male.

Clipping the lantern to her waist, Iosefka immediately pulled the barely breathing survivor with care as to not to disturb his wounds. A closer look revealed a youthful face that absolutely did not deserve to die.

Death was very much common to Yharnam. But Gods be damned if she could at least save one soul, especially one so young.

"Ready the horses!" Iosefka shouted to the driver as he glanced to the young boy she carried.

"By the Gods… he's just as young as my daughter!" The driver shivered, but nodded at Iosefka's command.

Norbert had already set up an emergency stretcher by the time she opened the door. Iosefka got to work, laying him down on the stretcher grabbed the medical kit by her side.

As the horses neighed and the carriage soon started moving once more, Iosefka carefully undressed the young man, cursing softly at the horrible wounds he had attained.

There was the white jagged end of a broken bone cutting through the skin and blood ran freely in thick scarlet rivers down to the end of his leg and trailed down to the stretcher, matting them together as it soaked into his black slacks.

Deep gashes and cuts littered his body. A particular wound she noticed was sliced in the flesh of his upper chest. It was heavily oozing out blood and there was a bluish-purple bruise forming around it.

"He's been infected." Norbert examined. "The beast had already done damage. And he's looking to have lost quite amount of blood. If he had killed that beast down the road, then its blood must have spilled into his wounds."

"We can still save him." Iosefka insisted. "Yharnam is close, as long as we can prolong his survival we can head to the clinic in time and stabilize his condition long enough for a blood transfusion!"

A small groan came from the young man in question.

"Ugh… uh…"

Was all he could let out before he started coughing rather violently.

"Please, save your strength." Iosefka gently hushed him. "Rest now, we will help you in time. You will not die here."

He whimpered at the mention of death, his right hand twitched. His grasp weakened, and a black collar that had a symbol of two silver rhombuses melded together dropped to the wooden floor.

"C-Chal-"

Another violent fit of coughs.

"You heard the lass." Norbert placed a hand on the young man's arm. "Rest."

Try as he might, he persisted to talk, only to end up with the same coughs. Iosefka rubbed his shoulder assuringly with a calming smile on her face. "Please. We will arrive to Yharnam soon enough. From there we can heal you. But for now, sleep." She ordered him with a stern, yet kind tone, the young man couldn't help it, his eyes grew heavy, before he fell unconscious.

The carriage shook roughly against the rough brick road.

With a soft sigh, Iosefka leaned back onto the seat.

She had denied the rumors, shied away from the truth. Assured herself that hunters would take care of it before it could worsen. It was already bad enough when reports of beasts started coming through the last few weeks, but this was the last confirmation to her worst fear.

"The hunt is going to begin…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Indeed it will." Norbert nodded gravely. "It seems things are going for the worst for Yharnam. That blasted town..." He muttered.

"The morning will come, and the hunt will end, as it always does." Iosefka mumbled. Ever the optimist she was, she felt confidence in the hunters. They were Yharnam's protectors. Have been, for decades, this was all too common. The hunt will soon pass, as it always has. Yet, as she told herself this, there was a sinking feeling in her stomach that things won't turn out as good as she thought it would be.

Even Norbert could notice her shaking optimism, but pretended he hadn't noticed."As does all hunts, but this hunt in particular…" The Blood Minister glanced at the battered young man resting with interest.

"...Is going to be special."

* * *

Pain was all he could feel.

Already, he felt the familiar wrappings of bandages across his body. The pain was subdued, for now, at least. The ache was dull, not unlike how it was when that… _thing_ , werewolf or something else clawed and bit into him. Still, he was no stranger to various types of wounds. Long before that creature raged against him, he saw things that could eat that thing like a measly meal, and he's fought things that would give that furred thing a run for its money. But damn did it still hurt like hell. The medicine he had been given had remedied most of the feeling, now it felt like a dull sensation, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance.

Blearly, he opened his eyes.

The sight of a high hanging rooftop supported by wooden cross beams was the first thing he saw. Then, the smell of a strange incense and medical supplies filled his nose. From his view, he could see the top of a shelf filled with vials of… what looked to be blood, and other types of liquid he was unfamiliar with.

Where was he?

Another singularity?

He opened his mouth to speak, only to let out a soft cough.

"Oh, so you're finally awake."

The creaking sound of a wheelchair made him turn his head to the side.

An eldery man dressed in what he could guess as victorian-esque clothes sat by his side. He saw his face, and found himself feeling just a little unnerved. There was something... beastly about him... as if the aura he irradiated was wrong, savage... even bloodthirsty... Yet most disturbing were his eyes, as light shone upon his face... or better said, his lack of eyes…

A curved tophat adorning his head, and strangely, wrappings of bandages around his eyes. A lantern held by the back of his wheelchair, as he fumbled with a piece of paper, his beard was ruffled, as was his hair.

"You took quite a beating when we stumbled upon you." His gravelly voice filled the room. "Impressive for one as young as you to have fought a beast and killed it. Mostly men at your age and even older would have been eaten right away." He chuckled.

"Wh… whe-" He tried to talk. His voice was coarse and rough.

"Now, now, don't strain yourself." The old man chided him, like he was scolding a child. "You've lost quite amount of blood, you know." He informed him offhandedly as he guided his wheelchair to the side, taking out and preparing something too dark for him to see. "But, you've stumbled onto the right place."

When the old man returned, he set up a rusty IV stand next to the bedside.

"Yharnam is the home of blood ministration. This town has been filled with secrets new and old for young men like you to find." He rolled to his side with a laugh. "You need only unravel its mystery. But, where's an outsider like yourself to begin?"

Done with the preparations, the old man turned to full look at him.

"Easy, with a bit of Yharnam blood of your own... but first, you'll need a contract…"

He held up the paper he fiddled with previously, along with a pen.

"Take your time lad, we have all night."

Shakily, he raised his bandaged hand, and grabbed hold of the pen the old man held. Despite his wounds, he did his best to make his handwriting cohesive for the wheelchair-bound man to understand.

As he finished, the old man took it back and examined it. How he could with bandaged eyes? He did not know the answer to that.

"Hm… Ritsuka Fujimaru. An oriental, I presume. You hail from the east, then. Yes?" Without giving him time to answer, the old man chuckled and placed the paper away. "Ah, it doesn't matter. Yharnam is accepting to all. If you follow their rules. But alas, what's been done is done."

"Now that everything has been all signed and sealed, let's begin the transfusion." Ritsuka grew uncomfortable at that, glancing at the dirty and unsanitary looking container that held the dark substance within. The old man seemed to have had notice, "Oh, don't you worry... whatever happens…"

Slight pain filled Ritsuka's senses as the man roughly jerked the tube into his arm, and the tainted blood started to surge from the container and into his veins. Leaning close, the old man whispered to his ear, his crooked teeth being shown as he grinned.

" _You may think it all a mere bad dream…"_

* * *

Ritsuka groaned.

He was pretty sure the needle he had been injected with was not clean.

Looking around, he found himself alone.

"He… Hello?"

Silence.

The… hospital? Clinic? Looked to be abandoned. The old man was not there, as was the lantern that kept the light. Now, he was surrounded by darkness. Deep, and suffocating, he felt something amiss…

His eyes traveled down to the side, and below him, stood a pool of blood, seemingly dripping from his other arm, where the blood he originally had was being let out, to be replaced by Yharnam blood...

Strangely, the puddle kept growing, and growing.

Wider and wider, it spread.

Then out came a claw.

Then a snout.

All dripping by the crimson liquid.

_This shouldn't be possible._

Was what should be his thoughts. But, he had seen crazier than a creature coming out of a puddle of his own blood. Yet he feared it all the same.

As if manifested by the blood itself, a monster appearing as a ravenous humanoid wolf-like beast, covered in blood and grime, was crawling out of the pool, oozing blood. It looked nearly identical to that beast he barely managed to kill back in that god forsaken , this was missing skin and flesh in different places, and it crawled with an inhuman, almost painful step, towards the table. Unlike the savage, and animal like crawl he had seen the beast in the woods did.

Ritsuka tried reacting to it.

Pain, fear, and panic all welled up inside him

It was like an unstoppable snowball in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't concentrate on anything else rather than _run away and don't look back_. His was heart starting to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rising and instincts took over, yet he found myself unable to move a single muscle to defend himself from the vicious monstrosity.

It lunged at him to strike.

And all Ritsuka could to was close his eyes.

Only for it to recoil. As if, as it reached forth, somehow it was repelled, recoling as if _he_ was the beast. Ritsuka could only watch in shock as the monster _spontaneously combusted_ , bursting into flames. It struggled to desperately to put itself out, roaring in pain and rolling down to the wooden floors in absolute agony as it fell out of his view.

_What just happened?_

He didn't have time to think.

He felt something touch his legs.

More and more... as if tiny hands started crawling on his body. He turned to find the source. His eyes widening these… little things started appearing. They were strange, small and deformed, as if tiny corpses shining in moonlit silver... all with their mouths agape and their expressions in awe. Strangely, he felt no sinister intent... somehow. These things seemed friendly, despite them covering his body.

Slowly, more enclosed him, and his eyes grew heavy once more, the call to sleep was tempting, despite the events that transpired, as if his will was being forced to slumber.

And so, he did.

Darkness was all he knew.

* * *

" _Ahh, you've found yourself a hunter…"_

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**WAKE ME WHEN IT'S OVER**

* * *

Ritsuka's eyes snapped open.

He lurched. The old gurney was too stiff for him to bear any longer as his body responded to his urges in fits of coughing. He patted himself, checking his body for any sign of injury, before wincing when his hand pressed into the soft, still healing patch of skin on his chest, covered by bandages.

Despite his rather weak state, he sat up. Bracing himself with one hand, and readied himself to stand, only to feel something cool and sticky meet his palm. He looked down, and saw a ragged length of cloth laid out across the gurney, covered in faint splotches of red. And on the gurney itself…

Blood.

Ritsuka pulled his hand back, wiping it clean with his black trousers. Grimacing after noticing the sorry state his clothes were in. Torn and thrashed in some sides, what could be seen underneath were wrapped in sullied bandages. He only realized now how much damage the beast could have done to him were it not for his quick thinking.

His shoes met the wooden floor, he looked around.

It was the same as he could remember the last time he opened his eyes. Abandoned in a rush, leaving him all alone.

The walls that faced his gurney were lined up in bookshelves, though the books had been removed and piled haphazardly on the floor, making way for a messy and cluttered mess. Medical tools and glass bottles. There were dozens of them, bottles of various shapes and sizes, each one wrapped with a piece of yellowed paper and filled with a dark, murky liquid that Ritsuka felt uncomfortably familiar with.

He stepped away from the shelves, his eyes catching a faint source of light to his right. Two lanterns hung, jutting out of the walls on either side of a pair of double doors with windows set in their frames, through which he could see warm orange light shining of the afternoon. There was another set of doors on the other side of the room, but there was no light in them.

Ritsuka glanced back at the lightless door to his left, his gaze switching back and forth before his mind settled. He moved cautiously toward the lit doors, avoiding broken bottles and debris with practiced ease. On the way, a high-backed chair wrapped in leather restraints caught his eye, along with a slip of paper resting innocently in a seat along with…

He picked up the black band with that he normally tied under his collar. Then he paused, leaning down and squinting at the handwritten scrawl on the paper.

_Seek Paleblood to transcend the Hunt._

He groaned and held his head.

Paleblood.

That word felt… strange. Wrong, even. Paleblood. What did it mean, and what did it have to do with him?

' _Focus Fujimaru!'_ He berated himself. He didn't have time to waste mulling over some stupid word! hHe needed to get out of here and get back to…!

To…

He… needed… to get back to…

His eyes travelled to the band and lingered on the symbol attached to it.

' _Chaldea!'_

Ritsuka smacked himself.

Chaldea. How could he have forgotten? Chaldea was his home, his family! They were everything to him.

He steeled himself.

He heaved a deep sigh.

' _My name is Ritsuka Fujimaru, I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

He repeated the mantra in his head. Yes, that would do, all he had to do was repeat.

Yes.

He was the Master of Chaldea.

He was the Master of Chaldea.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

Chanting the mantra silently, he proceeded to approach the doors. Pressing both hands flat against them and heaving with all his strength, they whined and creaked, wooden panels grinding against metal hinges, before swinging open to reveal a hall with descending steps and sloping ceilings.

A chandelier hung at eye level on the far end of the hall, but it had no light to give. The orange glow was coming from another window, below which, at the bottom of the staircase, was an open doorway to another room.

His mind still in a daze, he went down the steps precariously, his shoes clacking against the wood, and his tattered white long sleeved shirt rustling quietly as he fiddled with the black neckband. He passed through the next room, this one empty but for a couple benches and an overturned chair, stepping through another pair of open doors.

It was the largest room yet. There were gurneys everywhere, scattered about with as much care as the medical tools left to rust on the floorboards. There were more bookshelves shoved up against the wall, and more murky bottles to fill them. Broken chains and shredded cloth littered the floor, along with overturned benches and chairs. The room was a complete and utter mess, but he navigated his way through the darkness as he moved away from the wooden pillar blocking the light source-

Then he froze.

Blood. Again.

It was everywhere this time, absolutely _everywhere_ , spreading thin across the floor, staining the walls, trailing deeper into the room.

Then at the center of it all was a beast.

Like the thing he encountered in the woods, the closest word to describe it was wolf. But it was far too big to be a wolf, its limbs, unnaturally long, almost looking like it had once been _human_. With fur and tattered clothing matted in dark, viscous blood and grime. It snarled, a sound that rippled through the room along with the snapping of bones made Ritsuka's borrowed blood run boil.

**Ķ̸̛̩̫̻̇̄̍͑̍͂͐I̴̪͎͔͈͇͈̟̩̟̖̻̠̪̖̗̺̥̫̒̇̽͊͒̆͛́̔̽̈́̑̈́̏̔̏́̎̑̀͜͝͝L̶̢̡̨̥͚͚̣͇̟̻̪̗̩̥̙͍̟̔̽ͅL̵̥̪͒͂͗͗̈̾̈̈̊̈̍̍̒͠͝͝͠**

Ritsuka flinched and held his head.

The monster dipped down. A sound like ripping paper, but wetter, followed the snarl, and the beast jerked its head up with a scrap of flesh in its teeth.

He inched forward, eyes squinting at the bloody mess obscured by the beast's dark fur.

It was eating something- _someone_.

Ritsuka knew at his current state that he couldn't do anything to that thing. He'd be mauled to death by that thing should he try anything. He recounted the various lessons in strategy and tactics that his servants had taught him, he was outclassed by this beast, and the best thing to do was retreat.

Slowly, he backed away.

And stumbled into a gurney.

The metal bed rocked back beneath his weight, spilling the tools piled on its surface to the floor, and he gave a shout of panic.

The beast swallowed the strip of flesh and turned murderous eyes on him then snarled.

The urgency to defend himself overcame his sense of reason. His hands spasmed, grasping for something, _anything_ to fight back.

His hands found nothing.

The beast barreled forward, bloody maw opening wide to tear him apart, and he rolled away with a shout. He stood up, bleeding and panicked, looking around frantically for the nearest weapon, and chose a discarded bottle from the fallen medical tray. He scooped it up with deft fingers while the beast spun around and hurled it at its head.

The creature hissed and rushed at him.

He threw his weapon in wild abandon, the bottle broke against its muzzle, a clean shot, peppering its eyes with glass shards and murky liquid that seeped into its fur.

The bottle did little to deter it. Only pausing for a moment's notice before charging at him again.

He ran.

Ritsuka rushed past the mangled corpse and the countless empty gurneys, and into another room speckled with blood and bookshelves that held no books. The beast right behind, across the floorboards behind him, too fast for him to outrun-no, he was too _slow._ Slower than he had ever been, he was sure of it, as if the foreign blood in his veins was weighing him down with every step.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

He reached another set of doors, the glass panes set in them broken beyond repair, and shoved them open with his shoulder in haste, with the urgency of a man with death on his heels, uncaring for the bruise surely forming beneath. The doors flung open, nearly threatening to break off as he sprinted through them with the beast's breath hot on his back.

The open breeze of the afternoon cooled him off slightly as he found himself in a cemetery that had fallen into the same disrepair as the clinic. Many Tombstones littered the earth, bunched up in clumps here and there with no rhyme or reason to their organization. He took in the old, gray trees and wrought-iron fences enclosing the space with frenzied eyes, still running, and zeroed in on a pair of gates at the end of the lot.

Quickly, he dove into them, throwing all of his weight and waning strength against them and praying they weren't locked. He needed to get out. He needed to get away from this place, away from the beast until he could find a proper weapon to defend himself.

He needed help.

The gates groaned open and Ritsuka rushed through.

What greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

A city of titanic architecture, sheer cliffs of towers and spires as far as the eye could see. In front of him, a short staircase leading down to a dead end overlooking a steep drop that meant nothing good for him. To his left, a broken down carriage and a pair of dead, mangled horses to draw it. And to his right, a cobblestone path.

' _Behind you!'_

He rolled to the right, barely avoiding the swipe of claws as the beast crashed into the ruined carriage behind him, growling and yelping. His legs pumped as fast as he could make them, and were still infuriatingly slow. The foreign blood sloshed and pulsed inside him with every step, slowing him down, yet somehow making him feel lighter with every step.

Stronger, almost.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

His shoes cracked against the rocky ground as he came up to a fork at the end of the road. On the left, the road continued. On the right, another iron gate barred his path from the continuation of the road, as well as what might have been...

' _Torchlight?'_

He nearly slammed himself on to the gate with how fast he was running, eyes trained desperately on that bobbing hint of light. Yet, no matter how much he pushed and heaved it with all his might, it wouldn't budge. He wasted precious seconds trying to open it, to get to the people beyond it, before giving it up. He spun, and saw the beast was still extracting itself from the carriage, and turned to his last avenue of escape.

A man stood there.

Ritsuka sighed, shaking with relief as the villager approached. He was slow to move and his clothes were ragged, though he supposed he had little room to judge, torn and bloodied as he was. He held a torch in one hand and a wickedly medium sized axe in the other, both of which were trained cautiously on him.

"I… I don't mean any harm." He said with shaky breaths. "I need… help."

Again, he felt his borrowed blood boil once more.

**Ķ̵̨̭̳͎̦͙̗̦̗̻̈̌̀̒̐̃̀͜͠I̵̡͓͗̿̊͗͗̚̕L̷̨̘̭̮͚͋L̴̛̗͇̏̇̀̉̈̑͘**

He pushed the feeling away, realizing his hands were still held in loose fists in front of him, ready to lash out at the nearest threat. He forced them to relax, splaying his fingers wide, palms flat, in a gesture of peace.

The villager lunged forward and landed a swift cut to the shoulder as he raved.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

"Beast! Foul beast!" The villager howled, bringing his blade back around. Ritsuka cried out, a gurgling sound, and shielded his face. Red hot agony lanced through his hand, and three severed fingers joined his blood on the cobblestone.

The man rushed at him once more. Ritsuka gathered all the fleeting strength he could muster in his legs, and managed to kick the villager away, watching the man stumble and fall with a shout as the pain started to numb around him.

_'I'm not a beast.'_

Was all he could say in his mind, the thoughts thick and fuzzy in his head. The world was starting to dim, and his body was growing colder by the second.

_'The beast is over there. It's coming..._

And then the familiar snarl informed him it was already there. The beast came down on his back with half a ton of murderous claws and teeth, and Ritsuka Fujimaru ceased to feel anything at all.

In his last moments, he saw them.

' _I'm sorry Mash… Doctor Roman… everyone... I… I couldn't…'_

His last thought before the icy chill claimed him was brief.

_'What a terrible dream.'_

* * *

Blearily, he woke up.

Ritsuka sat up in confusion. His eyes widened, wincing and shutting his eyes as soon as he realized that he wasn't dead, bracing for a torrent of agony that would fill him in any moment…

…

It never came.

After a handful of frozen seconds, he cracked an eye open.

He laid on a stone path, overrun with gentle greens and fragile white flowers where the city's streets had been bare. He blinked, his mind was still in a daze, vision blurring and crystallizing as he raised his head up to take in the new scenery.

The clinic he'd fled from and the city he'd died in had been nothing but old blood and jagged architecture. What life he'd seen had been _wrong_ , messed up, as it were. sickly gray trees, beasts that fed on human beings, and human beings that acted like beasts. But this life was different.

This?

_This life was pure._

Tombstones were here as well, but they were surrounded by so much life that they almost thrummed with the memory of the dead they were marking. Aside from the flowers and plants sprouting up from cracks in the stone, there were trees.

Healthy trees, with brown bark and green-yellow leaves that swayed with the breeze. There were more of the white flowers, so many of them that they overflowed from the patches of land they'd been planted in. And intermixed between it all were countless, countless leaves that fell to the ground like eternal autumn.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, marveling at the lack of pain. Even the discomfort of the foreign blood had vanished, leaving him feeling better than he could ever remember being. Once he found his feet he paused, just drinking in the little paradise he'd woken up to.

Maybe he was dead after all. This seemed as good an afterlife as any.

Craning his neck, he looked up at the sky, so different from the one he'd been killed beneath.

Instead of a sullen orange sun he found a bright white moon, larger than it probably should have been. Yet, in spite of its prominence, the skies themselves were a pale, misty blue.

Beyond them, and beyond this little abode, were obelisks. As far as the eye could see, on all sides of him, the towering pillars of stone rose and pierced the clouds, standing silently foreboding outside of his reach.

He fiddled with the Chaldean neck band subconsciously.

This felt… ethereal.

Like a lost paradise, only for himself.

_Like a dream._

He removed his gaze from the sky to the building in front of him.

It was every bit as sharp and eye catching as the city's architecture had been, though not nearly as tall. By his mark, it only had a single floor, though that didn't make it any less impressive to look at. Like an old, homey house.

The path he'd woken up on lead up to it, the stone path continuing on past the Hunter for a few feet before rising up into a short series of winding steps that led directly into the building's entrance.

Taking a step forward, out of his trance, he approached the steps and a small alcove set in the hill that the building sat upon.

The alcove was situated in the shadow of the steps, partially obscured by hanging vines and leaves.

And in it laid a doll.

A plain doll.

It was propped up against a stone wall, legs straight, hands held primly in its lap, staring blankly at… nothing, as if waiting for something.

Ritsuka looked at it curiously. Its features were lit by a lamp sat at the edge of the alcove, its skin was porcelain pale and had elegant cheek bones. Its lips, once full and red, were faded and chipped with age. Its hair spilled out from beneath a pale gray bonnet, the color of fresh, dusky skies. Its eyes were blank, flatly white, as if the doll's creator had forgotten to paint them.

The doll's attire was elegant, a wash of pale grays to match its bonnet and light lavenders to compliment them. A gray cloak hung over its shoulders, heavy and embroidered with immense detail, and beneath that was a lavender dress with white frills. Boots and a scarf that stood out for their color, blacker than the beast's fur, completed the image.

It looked like it was created with care and love, but now abandoned and forgotten.

He stared at the doll's eyes for a moment, and had the unsettling suspicion that they were staring back. Though he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts.

It was, all in all, a beautiful doll. Medea would agree with him. It was a shame it had been abandoned. He wondered who-

He blinked.

The doll blinked back at him. Or, rather, the fleshy sockets that should have probably been holding eyes blinked.

The creature that he'd seen in his fever dream peeked up at him from beneath the doll's cloak, and the Hunter realized he hadn't just been seeing things after his transfusion. The same abomination that had drowned him in icy touches with the rest of its brethren was hiding beneath the doll's cloak, and once it had secured his notice it threw the heavy white cloth aside, gesturing spiritedly with emaciated hands.

It looked like it was worshipping him.

It looked something like a fleshy skeleton, he mused, following its gesturing to another abomination waving frantically to him from the temple's steps. He gave the one by the doll a nod in thanks, and its toothless mouth stretched in a wide, grotesque grin. It did a little dance and promptly sank back into the stone beneath the doll.

"...Thanks?"

He walked up the steps, kneeling in front of the beckoning abomination, and watched it reach into the stone steps to pull out a spoke of metal. It heaved, and the spoke sprung free of the steps, along with a long, thick hilt wrapped in bandages, and an attached cleaver-like, blade as broad as his waist with razor sharp teeth in each side covered in bandages.

The fleshy skeleton beamed as it offered him up the cleaver it had pulled from nothing, and after a moment of stunned silence, he took it. When the creature didn't leave, looking up at him expectantly, Ritsuka offered it a hesitant smile.

"Thank you," he said. His voice came out low, deeper and more commanding than he'd have expected of it. Though, at the sound of it, the abomination threw its little arms up in jubilation and happiness before it sank back into the steps.

He hefted the cleaver-like weapon thoughtfully, transferring it from hand to hand and settling on the right. It was heavy, but not so much as it looked.

Swinging it around once, twice, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the saw-blade weighed almost perfectly with the hilt, giving him more than enough balance to swing freely. He ran through a full string of swipes and lunges, stumbling as he did before ending up at the bottom of the steps in a clumsy misstep, and sighed in relief.

He only briefly trained in armed combat with the likes of Scathach, Leonidas, Arturia and others, but only briefly touched upon the more advanced topics. And even then he only really knew how to swing a blade decently.

But he could work with this.

He was just about to continue back up the steps when another abomination made itself known at his feet, popping up from the ground and gesturing for his attention.

He raised an eyebrow at it, and the creature made a pantomime with one hand,swinging its hand downwards with force. Ritsuka repeated the gesture in confusion, but the abomination swiped its hand in the negative, groaning reproachfully.

It pointed to him, or, rather, his cleaver, and made the motion again. Hand up, then swinging down.

He pondered the gesture for a moment, and then adjusted his grip on the hilt. Showing the cleaver as the fleshy skeleton nodded excitedly, miming with its hands downwards, swing downwards.

He gripped the cleaver, raising it, then swung down.

Metal ground against metal, throwing sparks across his vision.

Ritsuka blinked and looked down at the cleaver's blade jutting out, now in front of the hilt rather than underneath. The abomination clapped, then repeated its pantomime, raising its hand, and swinging down.

He swung the cleaver downwards and the blade returned itself under the hilt in a small shower of sparks.

A trick weapon.

' _Awesome.'_

The abomination at his feet disappeared, apparently satisfied, only to be replaced by another chorus of plaintive groans further up the steps. Ritsuka shrugged his shoulders, following the trail of abominations, might as well.

The next one offered him made him blink as he picked it up. A contraption as long as his arm and roughly as thick around, made up of countless intricate wooden and metal parts.

It was most definitely a gun, that was to be certain. A blunderbuss, perhaps? It looked too big for a pistol, and too short for a musket, so it was most likely a blunderbuss.

He took it with a thankful nod, hefting it in his left hand and finding the weight of it comfortable.

The last of the little creatures were calling out to him from the steps, three of them in a semicircle. They all raised their arms up to him as he approached, offering him a leather bound book tied shut by a darker leather cord and faintly stained with blood. Setting his weapons down on the stone, he unwound the cord and opened the book.

Nothing but empty pages.

A notebook?

What would he do with this?

"Ah, it seems you have everything you need."

Ritsuka yelped, dropping the notebook and leaping back, scooping his weapons up in the same motion. Inside the building, beyond the wooden doorway, was an old man in a wheelchair who watched him with in amusement.

A different old man in a wheelchair, he realized. Their features were wildly different. Ashen grey hair unkempt from his black, crumpled hat. He wore a reddish-brown jacket and a red scarf along with a green vest and white collared frilled shirt tucked beneath. His right leg was replaced with a wooden peg as he held on to a cane.

And his eyes… they bore into Ritsuka with a sense of knowing that made his hair stand on end... yet, there was a strange, sorrowful and pained look in his eyes mixed with wisdom.

"Well, don't just stand there," the new stranger croaked, beckoning him with a frail hand. "Come in, come in."

He hesitated, but only for a moment.

The interior of the building was less spacious than he'd imagined it would be.

It was walled in by bookcases - filled with actual books, to his relief - and what looked to be trunks and workbenches. A fire was burning merrily in a grate off to one side, illuminating the workshop with an orange glow that was somehow much less threatening than the sunset rays he'd died under. Another two doors had been blown off their hinges, leading to what he assumed to be other parts of this blissful paradise.

In the middle of it all, the peculiar old man sat in his wheelchair and regarded Ritsuka with what could only be described as amusement.

"You must be the new Hunter," the old man said rhetorically.

He answered anyway.

"I am." If nothing else, he knew that much. Could feel it in his bones, in the very pit of his stomach. "And you?"

The old man laughed, a painful sound that almost immediately trailed off into wet, hacking coughs. "No, no," he rasped once he'd recovered. "My hunting days are long over. I'm just a simple guide, now. A... _friend_ to you hunters."

"...A friend." Ritsuka repeated.

"More guide than friend," the old man drawled, waving it off with an arm. "Should you need my assistance, you need only to sleep, and you'll find me in this Hunter's Dream."

Ritsuka gave a small chuckle, a little grin breaking through his cautious facade. "Then what do I call you, old man?"

"Ahh." The old man grimaced, fingers clenching in his lap. "I am… Gehrman." The name came out as if he actively tried to remember it.

How old was this man?

"Gehrman." Ritsuka echoed, tasting the word.

"And you are…?"

"Ritsuka." He said. "Fujimaru Ritsuka."

"An Outsider, I presume?" Gehrman guessed.

The young man nodded.

"You could say that." Ritsuka murmured. "What's tonight?"

Gehrman smiled mirthlessly. "Why, the Hunt, of course."

Of course.

"So you know where I came from," Ritsuka said expectantly, eyes trained on the old man "Where I died. You know about that city."

"Yharnam."

"Yharnam." Ritsuka repeated. The word was foreign, like the blood the old minister had forced into his veins, it rolled off the tongue all wrong. An unpleasant name for an unpleasant city. "Then you know about the-the beasts."

"Oh yes," Gehrman nodded. "All Hunters learn, one way or another. You will, too. In time."

"Guess I learned the hard way, then." Ritsuka scowled. Even now, the feeling of the taste of his own blood as he was mauled by that thing was clear as day. Oh yes, he definitely 'learned'.

"That will happen." Gehrman waved a hand at one of the doors, through which the full moon shone. "The night of the Hunt, all manner of awful things emerge to haunt the streets. Men, beasts." He eyed the younger man. "Nightmares. It's a Hunter's duty to deal with them."

Duty. There was a word that struck Ritsuka. That was something he was familiar with. He did not know all the answers right now but he knew all too well the weight of one's duty.

"Why?" He asked quietly. "I...I don't understand." He muttered, glancing at his command seals.

"Then hunt," Gehrman stated. "Slaughter your prey and slay your nightmares." He leaned back into the wheelchair. "Insight is sure to follow."

"Then what?" Ritsuka asked, slight desperation in his voice. "What happens when I'm done hunting? Am I set free? Do I get to go home?" He didn't need to be a talented Magus to know he didn't belong here. Not in this Hunter's Dream, and not in Yharnam, either.

These places weren't home.

Gehrman coughed. "We'll get there..." He ground out. "When we get there." Ritsuka crossed his arms, unimpressed.

Gehrman sighed.

"Don't think too hard about all this. Just go out and kill a few beasts. It's... for your own good. It's just what Hunters do, you know." He smiled that same mirthless smile. "You'll get used to it."

"And if I don't?" Ritsuka knew the answer to that, before settling on another question. "What is this place anyway?"

The old man looked around with a nostalgic smile. "This was once a safe haven for hunters. A workshop to enhance weapons and flesh with stones of blood. You're welcome to return to this dream whenever you're in need of respite. We've run low of tools, as you can see, but you may use whatever you find."

Gehrman leaned forward in his wheelchair, voice dropping to a whisper.

_"...Even the doll, should it please you."_

Ritsuka stopped looking around the workshop and faced the man with a perplexed face.

Gehrman shrugged in response, a smirk on his face.

"How do I get back?" Ritsuka asked, discarding the old man's strange offer. "How did I get here in the first place?"

"You fell asleep, so you'll need to wake up to return to the city proper." Gehrman smiled again, this time with some semblance of warmth. "I believe your messengers should know the way."

_'Messengers?'_

Ritsuka frowned, brows furrowed, but before he could ask, a familiar groan alerted him to the presence of another little abomination in the doorway behind him. It was waving at him, brandishing the notebook he'd dropped in what could only be disapproval.

"It's blank." He flatly told them, much to their disappointment.

"Of course," Gehrman chuckled, amused. "How else would you write in it?"

Ah. Messengers.

But who would they be delivering his messages to?

Ritsuka took the notebook, turning to ask Gehrman just that, but was interrupted by a surprisingly strong tug on his hand. He looked down at the abomination- _messenger_ , and saw it pointing back down the steps at a tall, unmarked headstone with a little group of messengers huddling around its base.

"We'll meet again soon, I'm sure," Gehrman called while the messenger dragged him away.

Ritsuka gave a solemn nod as he went down the steps to the farthest headstone.

What now?

He turned back to the workshop to ask Gehrman-

' _And he's gone.'_

Ritsuka stared at the spot where the old man previously occupied in bewilderment. He turned back to the headstone and barely had time to realize there were in fact words carved into its surface, small as they were, before the messengers huddled around it seized him. He shouted in alarm, feeling the world fall away as the little abominations dragged him into whatever not-reality they resided in. The last thing he saw before he was swept out of his pleasant dream was the carving in the headstone, jagged and fresh.

* * *

**First Floor Sickroom**

* * *

He awoke to lamp light and the gentle groans of his messengers.

Squinting blearily against the faint purple glow, Ritsuka glanced around and found himself in a familiar room decorated with two ornately carved benches and a single overturned chair. He was at the base of the first staircase, which meant the room he'd encountered the beast in was just ahead.

By the sounds of it, the monstrous wolf-thing had not left when he heard a wet tear from the adjoined room.

He forced himself to his feet, limbs once again heavy with the weight of the foreign blood, and studied the lamp that hadn't been there before his untimely death. Four of his messengers had formed a ring around it, and each was jabbering up at its light imploringly, clasping emaciated hands together in prayer. The lamp itself hung from a crooked pole jutting out of the floorboards at waist height, a pair of bells and a chain secured at the top of the pole holding it aloft.

He forced himself to his feet, limbs once again heavy with the weight of the foreign blood, and studied the lamp that hadn't been there before his untimely death. Four of his messengers had formed a ring around it, and each was jabbering up at its light imploringly, clasping emaciated hands together in prayer. The lamp itself hung from a crooked pole jutting out of the floorboards at waist height, a pair of bells and a chain secured at the top of the pole holding it aloft.

left his messengers to their prayers, creeping into the room filled with empty gurneys. The beast had returned to its meal after killing him, it seemed, and was tearing at a strip of meat with mindless ferocity when he Hunter entered the room.

Ritsuka strode forward, padding silently across the floorboards.

The beast jerked its blood-drenched muscle from its meal, swallowing a full limb in a single motion, and turned on him with murder in its eyes.

Ritsuka breathed.

In, and out.

_'Focus.'_

The creature snarled and lunged at him.

_'Left!'_

Almost smoothly, Ritsuka sidestepped as the monster sailed by him harmlessly.

_'Now!'_

He reared the cleaver and swung.

The serrated blade drove right in one of its hind legs. Bone snapped, and blood seeped out as he forcefully removed the blade. The beast hissed, and swiped at him in rage. Ritsuka clumsily took a step back, only for the wolf-like creature to pounce at him.

His eyes widened, before he rushed forward.

With a short cry of metal against metal, the cleaver's saw blade came free from its original position.

The beast cried out in agony as Ritsuka gritted his teeth, holding on to the hilt with all his strength to keep the beast pinned to the wooden pillar. He slammed it to the pillar in a spray of dark blood, as the beast started to thrash.

With a quick pull, he yanked the saw blade out of the beasts chest.

The beast whimpered and squirmed, scrabbling against the floor, stubbornly clinging on to life.

Ritsuka grimaced, before swinging the blade down onto its neck, putting it out of its misery. Its skull finally caved beneath his blade, and the beast crumpled back to the floor. It didn't rise again.

He stared at the beast's corpse with wide eyes, simply absorbing the reality of it all. Eventually, the foul smell of its blood drove him back to his senses, and he ripped his blade from its skull.

He sighed.

He quickly left the clinic and turned from the outlook and stalked down the cobblestone street.

The young man was met face to face with a villager.

Ritsuka backed away.

"Stop." Was all he said, his voice firm.

"You are not wanted here!" the villager roared, lunging forward and thrusting his torch into the Hunter's face.

Ritsuka stepped to the left and watched as the man stumbled.

"I don't want to do this, _stop_."

The man forced himself up to one knee, brandishing his torch like a blade.

"It's all your fault!" The man screamed as he charged once more.

Ritsuka's shoulders slumped, and he heaved a sigh

He ducked under the flame, then dashed around the man.

_"I'm sorry."_

Then swung the serrated blade through the man's neck.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**WAKE ME WHEN IT'S OVER**

* * *

Ritsuka stared at the still man on the ground with shaky breaths as he lowered the saw cleaver.

As he walked forward, passing four more corpses, he couldn't help but note that the street seemed to be a dead end. When he reached the railing, it was just a sheer drop. No door out, nothing.

Looking around for anything useful, he rummaged through discarded boxes and to his luck, managed to find a few pouches sturdy enough to clip to his pants, and two belt loops capable of holding his weapons when need be.

' _Neat.'_

Bending down, he idly inspected a body, changed much in the same way the man he'd just fought had been changed: elongated limbs, pale complexion, and horrible hair. It had died clutching two bottles close to its chest, glinting amber with oil soaked rags stuck in them, with more of the crimson liquid roiling in their depths. There was a small matchbox propped against the man's knee, stained with black blood.

He picked it and the bottles up curiously, looking them over. The matchbox was nearly full, and the bottles were light despite their contents.

Tucking all that he could store in his newly found pouches, Ritsuka looked around.

There must have been something he'd missed. Beyond the metal spokes that fenced the street was nothing but a steep drop and hundreds of feet of empty air. This place couldn't just be a trap people couldn't escape; these men and that wolf-beast must have gotten here from somewhere.

There had to be some way out of this place. That villager must have gotten in somehow, Ritsuka somehow doubted the man locked himself into this abandoned side street with no way out. Maybe he had a key to the gate that he'd been unable to open before.

_'Or maybe-'_

"Die!"

One of the corpses he'd passed by drove a knife into his back. Ritsuka screamed.

He rolled away from the _corpse that wasn't a corpse_ , away from the pain, and drove the blade deeper into his back in the attempt. His vision flickered and burst into white light and pain, and he shoved himself to his feet with a strangled grunt. A whistle in the wind was his only warning before another blade, wielded by pretending villager, tore a bloody line across his thigh.

He lashed out, still half blind, and struck _something_ with the serrated teeth of his cleaver. Something that he suspected was a kneecap snapped beneath the blow, as one of his assailants fell back with a yelp.

"Leave this place!"

Ritsuka spun, eyes wide, and nearly had his ribs caved in by another he thought dead less than a minute ago. There was a broken butcher knife in the man's hand, stained with dried blood, all while baring his crooked teeth, laughing and screaming in equal measure that screamed of madness.

The Master dashed backwards, vision clearing in splotches, and saw one of the men that had been lying motionless on the street hurtle past in a botched tackle. The other two were currently staggering towards him, one with one arm hanging limply at his side, while the other man brandished a knife wet with his blood.

He couldn't speak to them, nor would they listen.

There was no choice, as much as he hated it, no peaceful option he could think of had him alive.

_He had to fight back._

He reached back, yanking the blade out of his back with one sharp tug.

He screamed through his teeth at the pain of it, and then he surged forward, striking the crippled villager across the neck with the edge of his blade. The man staggered back, gurgling, but swiped at him with his blade all the same. He slipped beneath the blow and struck him again, this time across the chest. Another swing, another dash, and Ritsuka opened up his functioning arm elbow to armpit with his cleaver's edge.

A moment later, the young man rolled away, narrowly avoiding another tackle from the villager who had lost his weapon in his back.

A ground of sparks hit the floor as the serrated blade whipped out from under the hilt.

Ritsuka made sure to put decent distance between him and the madmen. Then set his feet against the cobblestone, twisting his body around and raised his arm backwards, ignoring the agony in his back as every muscle in his body coiled up.

The villagers charged.

Ritsuka swung the transformed saw cleaver with all his might.

The blow caught both villagers in the chest, throwing them off their feet. The one with the blade didn't move again, and the one with no weapons began to stand up. Ritsuka nearly tripped on the rocky street as he drove his cleaver into the man's chest, plowing through ribs and organs to pin the villager to the street.

Silence.

Ritsuka panted raggedly, wavering on his feet and leaking blood at an absurd rate, glaring at the dead man with all his might. He wrenched the axe free after a few staggering steps.

He grit his teeth.

 _'Damn it._ _**Damn it.** _ _'_

Conflicting emotions bubbled up inside. He had no other choice. They were out to kill him, there was no other way. These men showed no mercy and he only responded in kind.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

He swallowed his sorrow, his helplessness, feeling dirty and sullied. Sighing, and turned away from the bodies. They were dead now, there was nothing to be done.

The fresh wound on his back the villager's blade made still stung in the cold air. Hissing softly, he hung the cleaver on one of his belt loops and hovered a hand on the deep cut. His palm glowed a faint green and relief began to soothe him as his Mystic Code healed his wound.

Taking a once-over his Chaldean uniform did Ritsuka realized how torn and bloodied it had now become.

He groaned softly.

At this state, it wasn't going to last long. He had just used one of its spells right now, he needed to conserve the remaining two.

He forced himself to move, to keep his feet, and make his way back to the clinic and the lantern. He'd go back to the Dream, recoup, and find a way out of this side street when he was in the right state of mind.

He made it about ten steps before he stumbled into the lever.

He spent a good long while just staring at the huge device, jutting up out of the street as innocently as could be, before he bit the bullet and pulled it. A low whine of shifting steel was the result, and a moment later something heavy and metallic crashed to the ground beside the lever.

Ritsuka looked at the newly descended ladder, at the lever, and then at the ladder again.

_'Stupid.'_

The climb up the ladder was as exhausting as it was painful, and halfway up he almost fell off when _something_ shrieked in the far distance, a high, piercing sound that set his teeth on edge and made his borrowed blood boil. Whatever it was, like the bridge, he knew it would mean nothing good for him.

When he finally reached the top of the ladder, he didn't so much step up onto it as flop. Breathing heavily, blood pumping more and more thriftily from the other cuts and wounds he couldn't heal, he took several gasping breaths, before shuffling to his feet and staggering away from the ledge.

He looked around. There was a plate next to the silvery gate to the right which seemed locked, a rectangle of rich bronze, into which was carved two distinct words, embossed in gold against the dented metal.

**Central Yharnam**

"Yharnam." Ritsuka read it out loud. It rolled off his tongue like a cat, undue emphasis placed on the "h", emerging as "Y-har-nam." He stared at the plate for a second more.

Yharnam. _Central_ Yharnam. He was in the middle of it, this city of Yharnam Gehrman had told him of. An imposing, eerily quiet place of looming metal towers and distant burning fires. He could smell the smoke, and something else along with it, unidentifiable meaty.

He tore his eyes away from the gate, and nearly lunged forward when he saw a familiar purple lamp in the middle of the area.

He found the same little creature, faceless and tiny, staring up at him.

"You again?" The young man muttered, sinking down to get a better look. The thing stared at his wounds and less than stellar clothing, then at his sallow face. He got the distinct feeling that if it had had lips, it would have been pursing them in disapproval.

It turned and scuttled away from him, and he followed. The pursuit barely lasted three meters; the little creature stopped next to the low hanging lamp, stuck up out of the ground on a crude iron pole. It stared at the lamp, and then at him, its hands playing out a pantomime, taking something out and holding it in the palm of its hand, running its thumb and curled index finger over its palm, and then shaking the both of them off.

Ritsuka cocked his head, and then, after a moment, tilted it upwards in slight confusion. He tapped his command seals with a shaking hand, the red mark glowing ever so slightly.

The pale abomination clapped, but as he stepped forward, it crossed its arms in a definite negative, making a shrill "Hmmph" sound. The sound seemed to emanate from the hole where its face should have been. He paused once more, bending down to watch his guide. He could barely feel his legs; distantly, he idly noted that his wounds and cuts weren't bleeding as much anymore.

Emphatically, the little guide snapped its fingers, producing a sound like a firecracker. The Hunter frowned, mimicking the motion, and the guide nodded excitedly. Then, it pointed to the low hanging lantern, before scuttling up its frame and perching on top of it.

"Huh," Ritsuka hummed. He kneeled down, holding his hand next to the lantern, and feebly snapped.

It instantly lit with a ghostly pale light, casting low shadows around it. The flame redoubled in size and intensity, and heat washed over him in a soothing wave.

The guide on top of it sprang into a little dance, nearly toppling off.

The light was warm, far warmer than such a little light had any right to be. He settled down next to it, crossing his legs and hung his head low, staring at his command seals.

He would rest here for a while, and then continue this... Hunt. If that really was the only way to escape… _wherever the hell_ he'd been carried to, and return to Chaldea, he needed answers from that mysterious old man, Gehrman, it was unthinkable to take another option. They needed him. Chaldea, his friends-no, _family_ needed him.

His eyes started to slip closed. A grey tiredness was sweeping over him, stealing his strength and leaving him to sag lower and lower. His bones felt hollow.

His thoughts wandered back to his Arctic home as his eyes closed.

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

And so he dreamed again.

* * *

By the time Ritsuka woke up did he notice the faint smell of incense. Blearily, he stood up, a mix of paranoia and hope as he neared the house just in front of the lamp.

Gehrman had told him that incense warded of the beasts. And where one could find incense, one could find a still sane human. Or a newly transformed beast, that was always the alternative.

Ritsuka really hoped for the former.

Gently, he tapped on the window with his knuckle.

…

…

…

" _Hello?"_ A voice called from the inside.

He recoiled in surprise, honestly not expecting a response.

"Hello?" He echoed.

Faintly, Ritsuka could see the shadow of someone hobbling over to the window, and peering through it. A lone figure in the shape of a man as tall as him, though slightly hunched over, reading a book. When the man spoke, his accent was strange, not unlike all the others he had encountered so far in Yharnam, just like him, and his heart warmed at the small discovery.

 _"I am Gilbert, an outsider like you. You must be a new Hunter, then?"_ The now named Gilbert asked. The window was doing a great job muffling each of their voices, but unfortunately, Ritsuka had no way to open it.

"Yes, I am," He answered back. "My name is Ritsuka. It's a pleasure to meet you, Gilbert."

A chuckle escaped through the window.

_"Oh, it is all mine. The locals didn't treat you too harshly, did you?"_

"They were… a handful." Ritsuka rubbed the back of his head.

The two shared a small laugh together.

" _Yes… Yarnham has a special way of treating guests."_ Gilbert mused. Ritsuka inclined to agree.

"From one Outsider to another, could you _tell me more of Yharnam?" Ritsuka asked._

 _He heard the man hum before speaking. "I'm afraid I cannot be of too much help to you now, but I will do what I can. However, I must advise you, leave this city while you still can."_ Ritsuka remained silent at the pause, urging Gilbert to continue.

 _"This place is cursed and can do nothing but harm to you._ _You sound younger than when I arrived here. Whatever it is that you came here, it's not-_ " Gilbert's ominous warning was cut off by his own violent hacking. Ritsuka winced in surprise, waiting patiently as Gilbert calmed down.

"Sir…" Ritsuka leaned forward.

" _Please… just Gilbert."_

"You… Are you ill?"

From the inside, he could see a hand wave in dismissal.

 _"Don't worry about it. 'Tis better I die a man than a beast."_ Gilbert said as he started coughing once more.

Ritsuka frowned in thought. "But I the blood-"

 _"Does a cure-all seem too good for truth, my friend?"_ Gilbert asked him an unseen, coy smile on his bloody lips and a hoarser voice, dripping with regret.

"I… I suppose." The young man seemed to bite back his thoughts. "Well… I hope your passing might be peaceful, perhaps under daylight."

He heard Gilbert croak out a laugh laced with dread. _"Oh, that might be the greatest blessing ever given to me!"_ He remarked out loud. Ritsuka knew the man wasn't kidding when he said that. He had seen this during the Singularities were everything seemed hopeless. At this point, to die as a man under the shining sun… it would be the most blissful thing in the world since the innocence of the man's youth.

Ritsuka waited for Gilbert to calm his coughing before he asked his other question.

"Say, Gilbert… have you heard of... Paleblood?"

The man within the window paused.

" _Paleblood you say?"_ He repeated. _"Hm… sorry to say, but I've never heard of it."_

Ritsuka slumped his shoulders. Just his luck, the first _sane_ man he ran into and he was just as clueless as he was.

" _But... it might do you well to visit the Healing Church. It is they who hold the most knowledge of blood, as well as blood ministration."_ Gilbert advised.

"Where can I find them?"

" _Go to East Yharnam, beyond the valley, and there lies the Cathedral Ward, and within it, the church itself."_ Gilbert directed as Ritsuka made a mental note to remember all of this.

_"It's… It's also where the secret of the blood was first found, or so the hearsay is… normally, no one would let outsiders like us inside, but since tonight is a Hunting night, and you are a Hunter... Yes, yes, you can absolutely reach there."_

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Ritsuka voiced his gratitude as Gilbert simply chuckled.

_"You are always welcome… perhaps the city might not think so, but your company is always welcome with me."_

"As is yours, Gilbert." Ritsuka smiled. "I'll take my leave, thank you again for this."

" _May you have a successful hunt, Ritsuka."_

With a nod, the young man set off.

* * *

" _Why you!"_

Ritsuka gave out a scream as he flew threw the air.

He tumbled and rolled along the cobblestone path. A wheeze left his mouth, as blood started to escape. With a grunt, he forced himself on one knee, and gripped the saw cleaver tightly as he glared at the misshapen giant.

Despite its size the lumpen giant acted like a huge toddler in his eyes. Often swinging that crumbling brick of his like some child throwing a tantrum as it stomped and fumed around the courtyard.

Ritsuka knew that he couldn't beat that thing with just brute force.

What he needed was speed.

The giant roared and charged at him.

Then it swung.

Ritsuka dashed around the troll.

With a grunt, he slashed the cleaver clear across the giant's leg and watched it gave out a pained shout. It turned around, and started swinging the brick like a club as Ritsuka did his best to weave around the attacks.

The giant grabbed the brick with both of his hands and gave out a mighty roar and slammed it down on the ground in a vain attempt to crush its speedy foe.

An opening.

' _There!'_

Transforming the cleaver, Ritsuka dashed and ran on the struggling giant's hand and raised his cleaver.

A reddish orange aura spiked around his form as he swung downwards.

The serrated blades cut through the lump and misshapen head as the giant roared. Ritsuka gritted his teeth and dug his shoes further into the monster's shoulders as his Mystic Code enhanced body brought the saw blade deeper and deeper into the giant's head.

With a final whimper, it fell over, dead.

Ritsuka grunted with a look of relief. With a hard tug, he released the cleaver from the troll's head.

He landed on his rear a moment later, panting for air.

' _Well, there goes the last of this Mystic Code.'_ He glanced at his torn, bloodied, and messy uniform with a groan.

Idly, he took out the bell the messengers had given him as he ventured through Central Yharnam.

He traced the curve of the bell in his hand, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied its construction. The metal shell was attached to an iron ring by only two dirty, barely white straps, stained with beast blood and age.

It glowed a strange color, a warmer shade of red, in contrast to the soft purple and blue of the lamps that took him back to the ethereal Hunter's dream. He couldn't trust completely that whoever came to his aid would be any sort of help, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to try. In any case, he could, at the very least, figure out how to ring the damned thing.

Shrugging, he shook it, and watched it rang.

…

' _And… nothing.'_

With a sigh, Ritsuka looked around the courtyard, now truly alone. He wondered if, maybe in a time far away from the present, the place had been beautiful. A sparkling, functional fountain surrounded by lovely green trees, park benches to sit and rest on, clean cobblestones. Maybe even children, throwing coins into the bright water for wishes. The picture he could paint with the remains was much prettier than what had been left behind.

He looked back over to the now empty patch of the courtyard and froze when all he could see was a wide chest, covered by an armored shirt and a black coat. The impulse to scream was stuck in his throat, trying to crawl its way out as he looked up at the hulking man before him.

"Hello," The tall man greeted. His voice was a little quieter than Ritsuka was expecting, but at least he had enough of a mind to say anything at all. The young man squeaked out some sort of reply as he stumbled back, barely able to muster out the few strangled syllables and half-hearted shake of his weapon that he did.

If he meant him any harm, it wouldn't be in his favor if the man broke his neck to look up at him.

Apparently, the messengers had sent him a beast to fight beasts.

"You're not from around here, are you? Head down." He chuckled lowly as Ritsuka straightened up, eyeing the white-knuckled grip he had on his weapon's handle. "So you've got a contract, from the clinic, eh? No matter. We should find you something better than those filthy rags, if you're going to be a proper hunter."

"I — excuse me?" Ritsuka glanced down at his uniform, prepared to defend himself, before he remembered. The man gave a gruff chuckle the younger hunter nervously messed with the literal rags wrapped around his skin, blooded and covered in dirt, his side of the argument dropped immediately.

"I… maybe that's for the best." Ritsuka weakly agreed.

The tall man grimaced and reached out to put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "It seems there's going to be a lot I'll have to teach you before you become a proper hunter," He grumbled, wiping off a bloodied finger off Ritsuka's uniform. "Come with me. I know where there's still a set laying around."

"I am called Father Gascoigne," He said once they reached the stairs heading to the bridge. "So you'll know what to yell if you get in trouble."

"Gee, thanks." Ritsuka dryly mumbled as he spotted a few villagers and dogs heading their way.

"I'll take the left." Gascoigne started, "You take the right."

"Sounds like a plan." Ritsuka nodded as he swung his cleaver.

Gascoigne smirked.

"Show me your skill, young hunter."

* * *

Ritsuka only wanted to lean against the brick wall for a moment, to catch his breath, but his legs ended up wobbling and falling out from beneath him. The pain of hitting the ground hurt, but the relief balanced it out as he leaned against the fence and looked up into the sky.

The hunter, Father Gascoigne, came up beside him and watched him pant, open-mouthed, like some dog. He chuckled quietly as he reloaded his pistol, then snapped it back.

"Careful now," He warned with a slight chuckle, "Too much breathing like that and I might mistake you for a beast." Ritsuka barely moved, except for the slight head tilt after you rolled your eyes.

"How," He breathed, "you'd already know me by my 'filthy rags' anywhere, wouldn't you?"

Gascoigne barked out a laugh and nodded, looking out over the main road, where a beast was burning at a stake in the middle of it, with fallen bodies littered around the pyre. At least with the way the wind blew, the stink wasn't drifting over towards the ledge the two were resting on.

"Soon, you'll be dressed properly," He grumbled, side-eyeing your black trousers, one pant leg ripped by a claw that swiped too closely. Somehow, the skin underneath was still smooth, only beast blood spattered over it, and not Ritsuka's own. Gasoigne stood up and walked over to a darkened alcove. Ritsuka pushed himself off the wall, watching him as he raised his axe, then began to wildly hack at the barrels shoved out of the way.

"What- what are you doing?!" He exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the splinters flying out. Gascoigne glanced over at the young man and huffed, stepping back and gesturing to what had previously been covered by the coffins and barrels.

Ritsuka frowned as he slowly walked over and peered down over the ledge.

"It's just a hidden path. Yharnam's full of them," Gascoigne said. He reached over and knocked over a set of coffins leaning precariously against a wall. They fell down onto the ledge and nearly crumbled to dust.

They'd been there a long time, it seemed.

Gascoigne inched against the wall, watching the drop below carefully.

"Careful," Ritsuka couldn't help but call out over him. He huffed through his teeth, turning back to look at him, then suddenly jumped off. The young man's eyes widened and he raced to the edge, looking over to see that he'd only landed on an overhang below, barely classifying as a short drop.

He looked up at him and smirked.

"Careful is nice, until it gets you killed," Gascoigne sneered. "Come down." He looked up at Ritsuka expectantly.

With a sigh, Ritsuka backed away from the ledge.

' _Oh if the others would see me now.'_

Then ran full speed ahead.

He gave out a yell as he jumped, aiming to land on the same overhang like the older hunter. Only to have overshot his jump, and went straight to the ledge. Cursing softly, Ritsuka closed his eyes and focused.

Briefly he felt his magic circuit course within him.

He rolled as he landed on the stone ledge, feeling the reinforcement spell soften the landing as Gascoigne followed shortly after.

"Hm. So you do have balls, after all." He mumbled, impressed as Ritsuka stood up. "Hunters rarely delve into the arcane."

Arcane? Ritsuka rose an eyebrow, was that what they called magic here?

"You could say that." The young man said vaguely.

Gascoigne frowned. "That won't do you any good. You should show your true face, or someone might think you're hiding something." He muttered.

"Right…" Ritsuka drawled as the older hunter shook his head and sighed. "What?"

"Nothing," The tall man deflected, looking around to see what beasts were guarding the sewers. "You remind me of my daughters. They'd like you." He said no more, tracing the movement of the torchlight in the shadows. Ritsuka observed next to him, turning his eyes to the sewers below, watching two engorged rats fighting over scraps.

You have children?" Ritsuka asked after the silence had passed for a few moments. The only beast that walked closely enough to the ledge to see him or Gascoigne paid no mind, content to pace along the narrow path.

"Two," He responded, leaning back to sit down normally and rest for another moment. "Both girls. They should be home now, and my wife with them." He chuckled under his breath. "They'd think you were ridiculous, but they like new hunters."

"Thanks." Ritsuka gave a small smile.

The beasts had looked smaller from up on the ledge, but now that the two finally dropped down to clear them out, he could see that they were twice his size, even hunched over. Gascoigne had dropped down the other side, leaving only one for Ritsuka to deal with.

His cleaver struck out with sparks, unfolding as he hurled himself to the right, out of range of the man-thing's attack. Ritsuka slammed into the wall with a wince.

_'Whoops.'_

The transformed cleaver's teeth sunk into the screaming thing's arm, serrated blades digging into its flesh, and he heaved then swung with a short bark of effort. His opponent's arm came apart like paper mache, blood pouring to the floor. The beast's weapon fell.

The man-beast screamed again, stumbling forward with his remaining arm outstretched. Ritsuka cursed softly and struck again, ending the beast's misery.

Beast or no, that was once a man. Ritsuka was a pacifist at heart.

He glanced over to the other side as folded the saw cleaver, watching as Father Gascoigne pausing to reload his pistol. The beast roared, raising its torch to smash the flame into his face, then fell to its knees when the other hunter pulled the trigger into its chest.

Ritsuka expected him to take his heavy handed axe and take the beast's head off its shoulders, but Gascoigne instead dashed forward and shoved his hand into its chest cavity.

Blood sprayed on the walls and a little even fell at the young man's feet when he ripped his hand back out. Ritsuka blinked incredulously as the beast was launched away from Gascoigne. It tried to push itself up, then gave out, its clouded eyes shutting for good. He looked over at the other hunter and frowned at his slack-jawed expression.

"Have you never ripped the beasthood from a man's heart?" He frowned.

' _No, but I'm pretty sure I saw Beowulf done something similar.'_

He beckoned the younger hunter over at the sound of a third monster's growling as it paced a little further ahead. He motioned for him to walk in front of him, then leaned down and raised his arm as he rounded the corner.

"Wait for it to raise its weapon, pull the trigger, and then strike," Gascoigne instructed. The beast began to rush towards the two. Gascoigne gripped Ritsuka's arm and held it steady as the creature raised its lance up, ready to drive it into the Master's skull.

"Now!" He roared. Ritsuka squeezed his finger and the bullet struck the creature's chest, sending it to its knees. Ritsuka looked at his hand, only for a moment, then dashed forward and drove his fingers into its ribcage.

The skin was surprisingly giving, and he slipped past the beast's bones and its lungs to take hold of its still beating heart. He gripped it tight and then ripped it out, blood spraying over the walls and himself. Gascoigne stepped back, smirked when the beast's body limply fell over the edge and into the sewers below.

"Huh." Ritsuka uttered.

Gascoigne nodded with a smirk, wrinkling his nose at the even more disgusting state of the younger hunter's clothing. Ritsuka sighed as he looked down at his clothes, stained beyond repair.

They truly were rags, it's magic weaved around it had waned, soaking up any bit of blood and filth it found. Unfortunately, he had to agree with Father Gascoigne about the state they were in.

"Come," He said. "There's another beast down there, and the rats aren't going to kill themselves."

A moment later, they were slowly descending deeper into Yharnam.

* * *

Ritsuka ripped his hand back, launching the lifeless body of another hunchbacked beast over the edge. Gascoigne came up alongside him, leaning over to watch the creature fall to its death. They heard a faint splash as it smashed into the ground a few stories below. Gascoigne chuckled quietly and looked back at the younger man.

"Very good," He said, quietly. He walked over to a dark shape on the ground where the beast had been standing a few moments before, toeing at it. When the head lolled to the side, Ritsuka suddenly understood what he'd found.

"This one seems to be about your size." He bent down and began to unbuckle the many loops and straps that held the garb tight to the dead hunter's body. Ritsuka eventually crouched down, pulling the pants and boots off. With the blood, bruises, and rot covering the body, it didn't look like much a person anymore.

Gascoigne neatly folded the clothes, holding them out to him. The Master took them slowly, feeling their weight in his hands.

This was what hunters in Yharnam were supposed to wear, he said. The garb was heavier than he expected, and though the hat looked worn and the coat faded, none of it had torn.

Perhaps the hunter just fell, then, Ritsuka wondered. Tired of the dream, tired of the hunt, tired of life.

But not him.

Not yet.

He went into the corner, and Gascoigne turned away, scanning the shadows for any movement as Ritsuka peeled his bloodied uniform off his body. They were all he had when he was saved.

He grabbed the Chaldean neckband and stared at it.

He pocketed it securely, ensuring it wouldn't fall loose by accident. He fixed the withered hat and straightened the coat as he secured the mask that came with the hat and breathed, looking down at his muddled reflection. **(1)**

' _I am the Master of Chaldea.'_

"A proper hunter," Gascoigne noted once the younger hunter turned around. Ritsuka smiled and nodded, pushing the hat up just a little, to show more of his face.

The journey back to the plaza was eventful. More beasts had chased after them. With his new attire, Ritsuka felt free and more agile than before.

He wrenched his cleaver tore out the beast's throat and sent it tumbling sideways with the force of the blow. It slammed into a carriage and then slumped to the floor, gagging and choking on its own viscera. Its too-long fingernails dug into the stone beneath it, leaving gouges as it tried to pull itself near him, but he just backed himself a couple feet away.

Several seconds later, the thing that had once been a man expired with a hate-filled roar.

Another beast shrieked again, rushing forward and its claws erratically. Ritsuka cursed, withdrawing his blunderbuss and darting to the left. The claws passed him, sending a slight breeze to his face, and he brought his cleaver around in a vicious spinning arc. It cracked into the back of his opponent's neck and the crazed beast yelped, a deep gash opening up just below its head.

Ritsuka turned to watch Gascoigne slam another bloodied beast to the floor in a spray of dark blood, before he shot another one that prepared to lunge at him.

The younger hunter took to action and rushed towards the stunned beast, before bisecting it with his cleaver.

Gascoigne smirked at the display before grunting, and dug the axe deeper into the beast as it yelped and howled, and when he yanked his blade from its head it clawed itself to its feet, even more furious than it had been before. It swung out at him, lightning fast, with claws covered in blood that may well have been his own.

The older hunter, lengthened his axe and swung with a growl.

The beast never stood a chance.

"Unexperienced, yet I sense skill within you." Gascoigne observed as Ritsuka freed his blade from the beast's flank.

"I had a few teachers." Ritsuka shrugged, the older hunter chuckled.

"This hunt is far greater than any of the hunts before it," Gascoigne said, glancing over at the gate from the bridge.

"It's far from over, but I have to take my leave." He stepped back and then bowed to the Master.

Ritsuka tried to copy the motion, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the man's somber expression, and he couldn't help but mirror the same strange sadness, even if he didn't understand the reason he wore it.

"Don't look at me like that." He chuckled quietly, forcing the young hunter's head down all the way into the proper gesture. Ritsuka smiled a bit as he straightened up, holding his hand out.

"Perhaps we'll meet again?" He looked up at him, and Father Gascoigne slowly took his hand. The size of his dwarfed the smaller man as he shook it solidly, then stepped back. Already, a blue glow encircled his feet. The messengers calling him back to his own hunt.

"Perhaps." He echoed, before he hummed.

"You know," Gascoigne began. "I never did get your name."

"Fujimaru." The young hunter smiled. "Ritsuka Fujimaru."

"Fujimaru…" Gascoigne repeated before he smirked. "Then may your hunt be successful and prosperous, Ritsuka Fujimaru."

Then the blue aura swallowed him completely and he disappeared.

The world seemed empty, for a moment, but if he said the hunt was not over yet, then he had no choice but to straighten up and keep on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)-Standard Hunter set with the short cape.


	4. Chapter 4

**WAKE ME WHEN IT'S OVER**

* * *

When he swung the cleaver through the man's chest, though there was not the expected sound of snapping ribs or maimed organs.

Instead, the body of the ancient bespectacled creature caved inwards like rotten fruit. There was a faint sigh, perhaps of relief, and then the old man's arm went slack. The starved scarlet glow behind his eyes faded, and the brass gun that had sprayed Ritsuka with an explosive buckshot fell away from his withered hands and clattered to the wooden floor.

He winced, checking his back with an uncertain hand. The blast had been delivered from ambush, giving him no time to dodge. He'd been struck in the side while bending over to inspect a blood-soaked piece of parchment glistening sickly in the dark. When he touched his back, his hand came away sticky and smelling of copper.

The smell was far too common in the city, but it no longer inspired in him the same kind of throat-closing sickness that had left him gagging earlier when an unfortunate beast had vomited its intestines all over him.

Gascoigne would be disappointed if he would be still be uncomfortable at the sight of blood and corpses.

The pain in his back ached. It was a minor wound. The old man, now sagging in his ornate wheelchair, must have had his aim thrown off by his own fading strength and degrading eyesight. Nonetheless, a man of his age should not have been able to lift a gun of such enormous proportions, let alone fire it without being harmed by the recoil.

Ritsuka had learned a lot about guns since he'd woken up in Yharnam.

It was much more different than the modern weaponry he had seen Kiritsugu used. How to load them, for one, which Gehrman, who he now called Gramps, much to the old man's annoyance, hadn't seen fit to tell him. Where he could scavenge the gleaming bullets that turned them from unwieldy bludgeons into savage weapons.

He'd learned about their tremendous strength, how to roll on his feet with the recoil. His keen instincts for killing, which he was both uncomfortable with and had learned not to question, had begun to sharpen towards recognizing the perfect moment to bury s hail of bullets from his blunderbuss, to the insides of his opponents.

He'd learned how they smelled, to recognize the crack of powder, how they felt in his grip: how the one given to him in the Workshop had always felt right in his hands, with perfect balance and an undeniable sense of recoil and kick. To him, there was no comparison between his blunderbuss and the long, clumsy firearms that the citizens of Yharnam preferred to bring along on their hunts.

Ritsuka had realized what these insane citizens had been doing after seeing the many beasts strung up in crucifixes.

Hunting, just as he was.

The Yharnamites were mad, much as it was obvious. Baying in the streets, chasing down beasts and slaughtering them with crude guns, ragged blades and axes, along with foul language.

The stench of the hunt hung over the whole city. It was a cocktail of horror and hatred and self-loathing, something that could pulse and writhe, spatter the ground with foul black ichor, smell of decaying skin, so saturated with blood that it became a dark mortar for the rest of the putrid mess. The city was held together by blood and gore that it nearly paled in comparison to any other Singularities he had traversed in.

Ritsuka was sure blood was the foundation for some of the buildings.

None of the citizens of the city seemed to recognize that they were just as beastly as the things they hunted. He had seen things off in the distance bellowing and bleeding, set upon by townsfolk. They were similar to the monster that had killed him inside the clinic, though all of them were unique in their deformities.

The folk who hunted them were all madmen, not even realizing just how close they looked with the beasts they hunted. They all had grotesque extended limbs and slavering jaws, and the same sinister deadlights that burned in the beasts' eyes. Occasionally the light was hidden by spectacles smudged so foully with dirt and worse that it was a wonder their owners could see.

He pushed open the door, heading up the stairs leading to the locked gate that led to the lamp and Gilbert's home, ignoring the body laid down on the stone against the metal fence.

The silver gate opened with a short heave, the metal doors opening with a loud groan, and he stepped out into the street, his aquired boots making an idly satisfying sound on the cobble beneath him.

Idly, he could see the outline of the man's shadow from the window, msotly covered by the chair he had. The incense from Gilbert's window gave him a refreshing smell as it waft to his nose. Even with the mask, Ritsuka could smell the crushed herbs and many ingredients made for the pleasing aroma.

In a city such as Yharnam, he would take any sort of comfort he could get.

He descended down the metal ladder silently. The layout of the city confused him. Never had he seen such a city with a puzzling and intricate way of routes. Towers and buildings loomed large, looking as if they were built on top of another city. As if Yharnam had grown to fast for its own good.

His boots hit the cobblestone shortly.

_"Foul beast!"_

Ah, right. Him.

Ritsuka swiftly dodged around the man, his coat flapping ever so gently with his movements.

The crazed Yharmnite stumbled, giving him ample time to grab his cleaver. He waited for the villager to charge at him.

_'Right about…'_

_"LEAVE!"_

Ritsuka ducked under the flimsy swing.

Over time, he had gotten used to his cleaver. From the little tidbits Gehrman had told him, saw trick weapons were used mostly for beasts, which was why it was one of the more common weapons in the hunting business.

The serrated teeth that ran along the edges of the blade were effective at drawing the blood of beasts.

The blade snapped open in a shower of sparks and the Yharmanite gave out a scream of agony as the cleaver tore through the man's clothes and into his soft flesh.

Ritsuka grunted.

He always hated this part.

He pushed the blade sideways, cutting open more of the villager's body as blood continuously spilled into the street

The young man gripped the handle of the cleaver and slowly pulled it from the man's side.

The sick sound of meat and blood clung to the blade stubbornly.

Then he pushed.

The man fell down as Ritsuka went down a leg, pushing the cleaver more into the Yharmanite's chest. He swiveled his blunderbuss to the back of his coat. Gripping the hilt of his cleaver with both hands as it dug further.

The saw, with its set of blood-letting teeth, had become a symbol of the hunt, and only grows in effectiveness the more grotesquely transformed the beast.

But that didn't mean it wasn't effective against crazed villagers.

The man died with a bloody gurgle.

Ritsuka sighed despondently, he quietly stood up. Grabbing his blunderbuss once more as he pulled the cleaver out of the dead man with a grunt.

He grimaced slightly, watching as the man's bloody intestines and insides stuck on to the blade like a lifeline. With a simple swing, he let loose of the blood and guts, letting it splatter on the street before folding the cleaver under its hilt.

Only now did he notice the several metal coffins laid out next to the wrecked carriage, down the street, subtly gleaming with oil and embalming fluids. They were chained shut. Fresh padlocks, utterly without rust, wound themselves around the carved iron of the coffin, massive locks staring out from the lids.

He walked past the opened gates that led into the courtyard. He wondered why several statues were piled around the area without s care for placement. Ritsuks frowned, staring at them.

They were pictures of worshipful men and women, their heads hung low, hands clasped pleadingly in front of them. They looked almost frightened, and if not for their proportions, disturbingly lifelike. Candles were draped over them, flickering in the orange light of day.

He strode into the clinic, the floorboards creaked under his boots.

He entered the next room, looking around the many bloodied gurneys and shadows warily. Anxious if any other beast hid in the dark corners, away from sight, and quickly into the base of the first floor sickroom where one of the lamps hunched over at a corner.

Four of his messengers groaned as he approached, but he shook his head at them as he went up the stairs that led to the closed doors further into the clinic, much to the pale skeletons' shared disappointment.

Gently, he knocked on the silghtly broken door.

"Miss Iosefka? Are you still well?"

Ritsuka had only met four people so far that didn't want him dead. Gehrman, who sat safely in the Dream with his inscrutable eyes, and a man named Gilbert, near where he had collapsed after climbing the ladder.

Gilbert was a very sick man. That much was obvious from his constant hacking and the pervasive wheeze undercutting most of his words, though he'd told Ritsuka himself that he'd come to Yharnam seeking a cure. It warmed his heart with relief that he had met a fellow outsider in such a short time.

Gascoigne was also a friendly face. The man was quite strict and quiet, but he cared very deeply for his family, Ritsuka admired that. It also helped that the man had helped him through his hunt.

Then there was Iosefka.

_"Oh the hunter!"_

Through a small part of the broken window panes of his door, was the flash of white that Ritsuks recognized to be Iosefka's clothing. He smiled.

The good doctor was quite possibly one of the kindest people he had met. He found out that she was the one who took care of him when he ended up here. Dressing his wounds and watching over him before the Hunt began, where she had to leave to look over her other patients.

" _I am fine. I'm very glad to know that you are still well and alive. Here, take this if you need any more."_ Iosefka answered through the door.

Through the bottom of the door sild out a different looking vial, this one looking more refined than the normal ones found throughout Yharnam. It held a much paler color than the crimson liquid in other vials, as Iosefka explained that it took a slow and careful process that took time to manufacture.

Another thing he learned was the use of blood vials. The first time he used it was invigorating to say the least, it quickly rejuvenated him, boosting him, filling him with adrenaline.

No surprise that most Yharnamites were heavy users of blood.

" _Has my small gift helped you in any way?"_

"Tremendously, yes." Ritsuka nodded even though she couldn't see him as he pocketed the precious vial into his pouch. Whatever Isofeka had done to her crafted blood vial was highly invigorating, much more so than the regular vials of blood. "I can't thank you enough."

Iosefka gave out a melodic chuckle. _"There is no need."_ She assured him.

"I don't think so." Ritsuka gave a small laugh as he rubbed the back of his head. "You're too kind to me. If it weren't for you or your blood vials, I would have been dead."

 _"It's quite alright."_ Iosefka told him with a soft laugh. _"I am a doctor, it is my duty to care for you, is it not?"_ She said. _"You are also a hunter, you protect those who cannot protect themselves on the night of the Hunt."_

Ritsuka idly rubbed the metal plate of the Chaldean neck band.

_"You risk your life to save those who can't. I know just how Yharnam treats outsiders, so it is rather admirable how you still accepted to be a hunter."_

Behind the door, Iosefka gave the man through the threshold a warm smile.

_"You needn't ask for gratitude, for you have already paid in kind."_

Ritsuka stood, quiet, his lips in a thin line.

Silence hung as he stood in front of the door stood stock-still, then his hand went up and gently pressed itself, palm-down, on the door.

"I…" His voice was now choked-up, memories of that peculiar place in the Arctic flashed inside his mind. The warmness in Iosefka's voice had coaxed a feeling he had not felt since…

His mind flashed images, of that purple-haired girl who stood by his side since the beginning, of that brown haired beauty of a genius.

And finally, of that doctor that gave it his all.

" _Shh, it's alright. You don't need to say a word."_ Iosefka's soft and warm filled voice intervened, her gentle hush stopping him.

 _"I never had gotten your name. Pray tell, what may it be?"_ She asked him.

His name, yes. He felt that he could at least give her that as thanks.

"It's Ritsuka, Miss Iosefka. Ritsuka Fujimaru." He answered.

 _"Ritsuka… a wonderful name."_ Iosefka gave a soft giggle, and he felt his cheeks reddened. _"Now, Ritsuka, is there anything else you need?"_

After a moment of hesitation he spoke, "Actually… I have a small favor to ask of you." He stilled. "There is a man in Central Yharnam, his name is Gilbert." He informed her. "He has a grave disease and is suffering greatly. If you can, may you look over him in the morning?"

" _Of course,"_ She answered. " _It is my duty to look after the sick. That is, if I'm not too busy. I'll never know; these Hunts are becoming worse and worse every night."_ She sighed. _" Please be careful, Ritsuka, when you venture out. I pray for a successful hunt for you."_

His hand fell from the door as Ritsuka dipped, giving the woman through door a bow.

"May you be safe as well, Iosefka." He rose, turning around, a small smile underneath his mask.

In a city such as Yharnam, he would take any sort of comfort he could get. Even if it was just a simple conversation with a stranger.

* * *

**Central Yharnam**

* * *

His heavy boots slammed into the warped wood, stairs creaking as he ascended. Ritsuka adjusted his withered tricorn hat while he did. The headwear was surprisingly heavy, but it did well in shielding his hair from the blood, his bangs were allowed to fall in place on his face as it used to.

Upon returning, Gehrman had been impressed at his change of attire. He told him that it was one of the standard articles of hunter attire fashioned at the workshop. It was a fine piece of attire befitting of a hunter, and Ritsuka tended to agree. The coat was light and the short shoulder cape provided in wiping away the blood.

Gehrman had said it provided good defense to anyone facing Yharnam's beastly threat. It even allowed one to stalk beasts unannounced, covered by night.

He was almost to his destination: the bridge that separated the center of the city from the Cathedral and its wards, where he and Gascoigne had crossed at an earlier point.

Traveling through the broken city more, he'd slain several dozens of creatures, though he disliked killing, he had a feeling that he needed to get used to it, Gehrman had told him so.

The less deranged citizens hadn't been any help either. What few there were had done the sensible thing and barricaded themselves in their houses; they weren't much friendlier than their maddened compatriots in the streets. It was only now, after having stumbled into this house and slaying an old man, that he had a better understanding of his place within the city.

The bottom of the bridge was right outside one door leading out, and it was a two-story building. It stood to reason that there may be another way out of the building that led towards the bridge; with how interconnected and serpent-like the streets were designed, he felt it was nearly a guarantee.

The second floor was pitch-black, lit only by a faint light filtering in through a filth-encrusted window. To his relief, the window was set in a door. His intuition had paid off.

A low-pitched, hateful scream hit his ears.

The man brandished a nail-studded club over his head with one twisted arm; three elbow joints, all close together, articulated his arm like a spider. He struck, as his companion had just a minute before, from ambush. His twisted arm was the first and last flash of attention Ritsuka paid before he struck back.

With a metallic clang, the cleaver unfurled itself as he dashed around the man.

Ritsuka grunted as he stumbled backwards from the broken wooden panel that struck out of the floor. He cursed. _'That was clumsy.'_ He scolded himself as he avoided another swing from the studded club.

He didn't waste time and swung the saw cleaver.

The blood-letting teeth dug into the man's side. Hard. Ritsuka tore the weapon out completely and blood split. He swung his cleaver and sent it back under the hilt as the Yharmanite roared and swung once more.

The young man didn't waste time and quickly slashed the man open with the cleaver.

The club fell, smashing the boards beneath it.

The man screamed again, stumbling forward with his remaining arm outstretched. Ritsuka narrowed his eyes, and struck again.

The man gurgled and brought a hand to stop the assault, only for it to be pinned along with his whole body as Ritsuka pushed the saw blade further into the man's throat.

With a grunt, he tore away his weapon, and with it, the Yharmanite's throat and sent the man tumbling sideways with the force of the blow. He slammed into a table, upending it, and then slumped to the floor, gagging and choking on its own viscera. Its too-long fingernails dug into the wood beneath it, leaving gouges as it tried to pull itself near him.

Ritsuka silently backed away as the man glared at him with a hate-filled eye.

_'They never do go down easy.'_

He sighed, approached the door, and left the dead behind.

* * *

The door had indeed led up the bridge he'd been seeking, only now did Ritsuka taken in the sights. It was a massive stone edifice, overflowing with lovingly carved statues of what he could only identify as angels and other divine icons. Every inch of it had been subject to unbelievable craftsmanship. Even in a city as strangely beautiful as Yharnam, the Great Bridge stood out as a marvel of architecture.

It was also filled with prowling beasts. Parodies of wolves, misshapen giants, and greedy, monstrous crows. The bridge was big, but not so big he could afford to avoid all the beasts who'd taken up residence upon it.

He gave out another sigh. He wished Gascoigne was here.

He'd managed to slip past one of the wolves before the other had attacked him. Despite his fears, its fellow hadn't been attracted by the commotion. Though he'd sustained a nasty blow to the chest that had surely broken at least one rib, his cleaver had ripped off the monster's muzzle and some of its flank in return.

He looked down at his chest; the beast's claws had left a ragged cut across his jacket. It seeped blood.

 _'Ragged.'_ He laughed. It hurt. _'Run ragged.'_

Five straight hours of fighting now. He'd rarely come away untouched.

Should he die again? It was an absurd thought, but he'd been torn apart by that wolf-thing after waking up for the first time, and was then ganged by a dozen of crazed citizens after he'd been resurrected. He would have also died once more were it not for Gascoigne. So he'd died both times then, and come back no worse for wear, drawn in by the pale dead light let off by the withered lamp outside Gilbert's house. He had no intention of giving up, but death might refresh him.

It was funny. He had often wondered on what his afterlife would look like. Brynhildr and the Valkyries said that he was surely worthy of Valhalla. Atalanta had mentioned that he was fit for Elysieum, Artemis agreed. Emiya had warned him of Alaya. Even Jeanne said that he was fit to ascend to heaven.

He laughed once more. Even if it hurt.

Heaven? After the things he had done?

He wasn't so sure.

Still, if he died here, then he would just end up at the lamp.

_"That is the boon of a Hunter. Their Hunt is not finished until their prey is slaughtered."_

That's what Gehrman had told him. Pain was really nothing to be afraid of. He'd suffered plenty of it already. The Camelot and Babylonia singularities could attest to that. He glanced down at his saw cleaver, before shaking his head.

 _'I can't look at it that way.'_ He grit his teeth. _'In this place, I have to keep pressing forward until I can't. If I don't, I won't survive.'_

Gascoigne would have berated him if Ritsuka ever thought of giving up.

 _'Well,'_ He amended. _'Not in the way that mattered.'_ His corpse may very well keep moving without him, but that wouldn't be him, not really. Not if it wasn't desperate to escape.

He kept walking, ignoring the pang in his chest. There were more birds squirming along the stone ahead of him. Ritsuka struck at them proactively, tearing flesh and feathers away with slashes and swings of his cleaver.

They screeched and hurled themselves at him, their blood-soaked wings straining to lift their bloated bodies high enough to scratch and claw at him, but the saw cleaver was fast and cruel. It tore them out of the air without regard for their anger, leaving them bleeding to death on the floor.

A lumpen giant, turning a brick over and over in his hand, eyed him as he walked past but made no effort to intercede himself.

It seemed content to play with a stained and crumbling brick as it grumbled like a frustrated toddler, its mutated face lighting up with strange childish glee as its huge fingers dug divots in the brick.

Ritsuka repaid the giant with the same ignorance it had given him, walking past without a second look. He came upon what had caught his eye ever since he'd tread upon the bridge, a massive stone arch that stood before a small courtyard. The courtyard was the last stretch of bridgework before the Cathedral Ward proper; he could see at the end of the courtyard a small stone door, set in the wall. It was inconspicuous against the massive wall made out of the same material, but his eyes were keen and he picked it out nonetheless.

 _'There_. _'_ For the first time in several hours, he felt a grin tug at his lips. _'That's got to be the entrance.'_

As he passed under the shadow of the arch, the hairs on the back of his neck rose unbidden.

Ritsuka blinked, his head jerking to look back over his shoulder.

As he began to turn, a familiar keening sound slammed into him, sending him stumbling back a step out of instinct. A moment later, something slammed to the ground in front of him, cleanly cracking the stone beneath it.

His borrowed blood boiled angrily.

**Ķ̸̛̩̫̻̇̄̍͑̍͂͐I̴̪͎͔͈͇͈̟̩̟̖̻̠̪̖̗̺̥̫̒̇̽͊͒̆͛́̔̽̈́̑̈́̏̔̏́̎̑̀͜͝͝L̶̢̡̨̥͚͚̣͇̟̻̪̗̩̥̙͍̟̔̽ͅL̵̥̪͒͂͗͗̈̾̈̈̊̈̍̍̒͠͝͝͠**

He didn't have time to ponder. His instincts were already screaming through his nerves, flooding his body with adrenaline and banishing pain and doubt. He quickly dashed right, his boots skidding on the stone, as something smashed down where he'd been standing a moment before.

It was a hand.

No, far too large for a hand, but a hand nonetheless, bristling with thick black hair that whipped about as if it had a life of its own.

It swept towards him, trying to knock him off his feet, and he rolled over it, dragging his cleaver across it and opening a multitude of cuts that spurted hot blood as he came back to his feet on the other side. They seemed small on the immense hand, even though each was nearly half a foot long.

The thing roared once more, and Ritsuka finally got a good look at it.

His throat went dry.

The other things wandering the streets, they made sense in some way. There were wolves, birds, dogs, humans. They were twisted and monstrous, but they were recognizable as something that had once been ordinary.

This thing was not.

It was another beast. Far greater than any beast he had fought in this city.

Until now.

It was like a wolf, standing on its hind legs, but it had almost avian feet, all fur and talons. Its ribs strained against its too-thin chest, inflamed and fearsome, heaving with each bellowing breath. One arm with a freakishly long forearm tapered out to a gnarled claw, stained with fresh blood. The other, which had nearly crushed him, was huge, far beyond the scale of the rest of the creature. Its hand alone was nearly the size of its ribcage.

It had no face. Where there should have had eyes or a nose there was only black bone, like a death mask that split open to reveal a long muzzle overflowing with teeth jostling for their positions; surely far too many to fit in any one mouth. The thing couldn't even close its mouth, Ritsuka realized. Not without impaling itself.

Massive dark crimson horns extended out of the sides of the beast's head, framing its entire profile with a devilish air. They vibrated as the thing looked down at him, opening its mouth for another scream.

Ritsuka didn't give it a chance. As it began screeching, the sound widening his eyes and making him wince, he transformed the saw cleaver and sent unfurled blade hurtling up into the creature's mouth. The serrated teeth of the blade scored the monsters tongue, short and black, and its roar cut off, reduced to a gag.

He felt a surge of triumph at the quick injury. This thing was big, but that didn't make it undefeatable. It swiped at him in fury, and he scuttled forward between its goat-like legs, scoring a series of slashes in its tough hide.

_'It's huge, but that makes it slow.'_

As the monster turned, the cleaver swung out once more, drawing some blood from the oversized arm. The beast keened in pain, one of its feet sliding back.

_'I can kill this thing.'_

It happened faster than he had any hope of realizing. The foot that the beast had slid back rocketed forward, like a bullet from his gun. Ritsuka tried to dive past it like he had the hand, but the strike was too fast, and much, much too powerful. It hit him in the chest like a bolt of lightning.

Ritsuka's back hit the stone rails as he wheezed.

It hurt. He had thought earlier that pain wasn't much to be concerned about. He remembered the time Shuten had driven a hand into his stomach to fix his magical circuits, but he'd never felt pain like this.

All of his ribs were shattered. He could hear them grinding against one another. When he hit the stone wall behind him, the sensation became a symphony of agony, blood cascading out of the wound in his back and wetting his hip. He slumped, too stunned to breath.

It was almost as if a Servant had kicked him.

He'd barely even seen the hit. The monster wasn't slow at all. It had lulled him into a false sense of security with a couple ponderous blows before ending him in one decisive hit.

Ritsuka looked up, shivering in pain. Just raising his head sent an intense cold slipping down his spine, covering his shattered ribs in ice. Shock, the same feeling that had overwhelmed him after the wolf had torn out his throat. This time, he didn't let it carry it away, shoving away the shadows creeping into his vision.

He tried to rise, his boots scrabbling in the blood pooling under him. Nothing. His legs refused to respond.

_'MOVE!'_

He couldn't.

The beast stepped on his legs. They resisted for a moment before splintering, fragmented bones sticking through crushed flesh. The feeling passed beyond pain. The world went grey. Ritsuka's eyes shut in agony.

He felt one monstrous hand wrapping around him, lifting him off the ground.

One of his crushed legs was left behind, gravity severing the last tendon that had stubbornly left it attached to the rest of his body.

The monster growled, an amused sound, and then Ritsuka went flying, hurled through the air by an unstoppable force. He was left alone in the sky, with nothing but the whistling wind and the pain of his mangled body.

He heard the clanging of metal and wood as his saw cleaver and blunderbuss dropped to the ground.

He hit something with a sickening smack, and the last vestiges of life in his mind flickered out.

* * *

"So, you've finally found a challenge." Gehrman leaned back, a bitter smile running across his face. He tapped his cane on the wooden tiles under his feet, once, twice. The second one was a more definitive thunk than the first. Ritsuka watched the old man's hand tighten around the cane, wrinkled knuckles going white. "You're taking your first steps."

"How did that… _thing_ happen?" He asked the old man, and Gehrman chuckled. Ritsuka had woken up in the Dream once more after he'd died. It was comforting to know that he was three for three when it came to post-death resurrection.

Once he'd made his way to his feet, he'd gone to confront the ancient man with his news of the beast he fought. It had seemed the natural thing to do.

"You met a great Beast, I'm sure. The perfect representation of the contagion wracking Yharnam, perhaps?" Gehrman asked. "Where did you encounter it?"

"Why would that matter?" Ritsuka raised an eyebrow

The old man huffed. "Answer me, and I'll tell you."

Ritsuka rolled his eyes. "On the Great Bridge. I was trying to get into the Cathedral Ward. I met a man who said I may be able to find some answers there."

"Chasing down Paleblood, are you?" Gehrman laughed, and his eye twitched. "As I suspected. That Beast you encountered was likely a former cleric of the Healing Church."

"A cleric?" Ritsuka flexed his hand, eyeing his command seals. His body's restoration was welcome, but unnerving.

"Just so," Gehrman nodded. "Those who tried to combat the contagion often become the most... gruesome of Beasts."

_'Why?'_

Ritsuka hadn't said it out loud, but the question was clear on his face. Gehrman sighed.

"Most members of the Healing Church turn into the most grotesque of beasts." The old man told him. "Ironic? Is it not? Those who worship this holy medium of blood, are the most feroious when turned…" He leaned back into the wheelchair as he chuckled. "Why is it so? Who knows, the old blood corrupts all."

"Will I have to defeat that thing to gain entrance to the Wards?" The notion made him...

Ritsuka didn't know how it made him feel. He felt an undeniable fear, the reason for which was obvious to him, but the idea of going back to that bridge to slay the former Cleric also sent his heart thrumming with sanguine excitement.

He could picture his hand plunging into the thing's eye, just as it had the wolf-thing's inside the clinic earlier that day, and the phantom sensation of the beast's blood boiling his fingers, its skull rupturing under the force of his blow as its eye socket shattered and distended, made his shoulder quiver.

"It doesn't matter if you have to or not," The old man rumbled as Ritsuka shook his head, banishing the tremor from his hand and shoulder.

"It will track you down if you don't, drawn by your bloodlust." He smiled, revealing gray teeth. "The Hunt is a night of equal opportunity. It may be best for you to challenge it in familiar territory. Besides..." He chuckled.

Gehrman looked at him with knowing eyes.

"You've faced worse, no?" He said. "I can see it in your eyes. Danger and terror looms in your life often." He croaked a small laugh. "Yes, you fit perfectly in the Hunt."

Ritsuka heard something more behind the cripple's words. He sounded exhausted. But he couldn't challenge the old man's claims; he was completely right, after all. Singularities were filled with danger left and right. He may not have been in the frontlines, but there were a few skirmishes with soldiers and beasts alike.

Now that he understood the beast's speed and strength, he had a better idea of his chances. It would merely be difficult, not impossible.

_'I know that Beast's limits better than I do my own.'_

"I can see that glint in your eye." Gehrman smirked. "Perhaps I should remind you to keep wary of the blood. It is addicting, and invigorating, is it not?"

"I… suppose." Ritsuka said, he couldn't deny it. The blood energized him. Injecting it into his veins gave him relief.

"I will say to you, as all hunters before you. Who you were before you were drawn into this dream," Gehrmn began. "You are no longer that person."

Ritsuka blinked.

A sudden chill traveled down his back, settling somewhere above his tailbone, and he took a step forward. Gehrman calmly regarded him as the young man loomed over him. Ritsuka bent down, bringing their faces less than a meter apart.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"A Hunter is produced by the will of a powerful man," Gehrmab said calmly, his lips twisting into a sly grin. "Or woman's, of course. The only thing separating you from the Beasts is that will itself."

"I… don't understand." Ritsuka muttered.

" _Blood_. Some earned, some owed. You are a cocktail of humanity and blood. That is what makes a Hunter more than a Beast." Gehrman said.

Ritsuka took a step away. "You're not making any sense."

"No, of course I'm not." Gehrman chuckled. "I can't, not right now. But you'll understand, I think, in due time." His eyes, hidden under that rumpled hat, gained a terrible sheen. "Please trust me, Ritsuka. Slay more Beasts like that poor cleric, and this will become more clear. Your identity will become the least pressing mystery on your mind."

He sighed, his voice heavy. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm sure you have a beast to slay." He sounded for all the world like an incontinent grandfather. Ritsuka bit his tongue, if there was anything he appeared to have plenty of, it was time. He could ask more questions later.

As he turned to leave, Gehrman coughed. "I almost forgot. There is one more thing."

Ritsuka glanced over his shoulder as he reached over to grab his cleaver from where he'd left it by the door. He'd already retrieved his blunderbuss, carefully set against a dusty cabinet.

"The Doll outside." Gehrman said. "I was not jesting when I said to use it."

The young man stared at the cripple flatly.

"Look, I'm sure the Hunt has made many lonely, but I'm not going to use that thing for-"

"Not like that." Gehrman rolled his eyes as Ritsuka raised an eyebrow.

"The Doll resides within the Hunter's Dream for a reason, mind you." The old man said as he leaned back. " It serves as a means to embolden a hunter's flesh with the power of blood." He said.

Ritsuka looked down in thought.

"Use it." Gehrman continued. "If you want to gain more power to hunt beasts more efficiently."

The young hunter didn't say anything more. Exiting shortly after a moment, striding down the cobweb-cloaked stairs. He paused at the bottom, glancing to his right.

He recoiled in surprise.

The Doll was there, dressed in its aged refinery as he'd always seen.

Except now she was standing.

He only realized now how she was a good foot taller than him. Even at this distance, he could see the difference. Her hand clasped patiently, as if she were waiting for something. He wondered what its light green eyes were focused on.

Carefully, Ritsuka set the cleaver on his belt loop to his right and swiveled the blunderbuss on his back as tried to follow the doll's line of sight.

_'My grave?'_

He double-checked. His first impression had been right; the doll's lovingly carved eyes, unbearably lifelike, were set directly upon the tombstone he'd awoken before the first time he'd died.

Slowly, he approached her.

She turned her gaze from the grave to him as he stepped down.

The Doll gave him a small smile, and he resisted the urge to let a shiver run down his spine. It looked so lifelike, so alive, yet… _fake_ all the same.

"Hello, Good Hunter. I am a doll, here in this dream to look after you, to strengthen your being." A quick pause, to gain his attention.

Her voice was soft and flowing, it fitted her appearance, Ritsuka mused. Her accent sounded like she hailed somewhere from Central Europe, even if this doll was likely made within the Hunter's Dream.

"Gehrman said that you could help me." He spoke. "How?"

_'Strength.'_

It wasn't the word itself, but the tone in which it had been delivered, the intent behind it, that lit something inside Ritsuka.

For a moment, it felt like his eyes were boiling, his whole body quivering with potential energy, his muscles jittering with phantom heat. The feeling vanished the moment he tried to focus on it, leaving him empty and lukewarm.

Strength. There was something there.

"When you hunt, you grow to understand the beasts. They bleed, and inevitably, so do you. The echoes of those battles resonate in you, and so you begin to gain their blood." The Doll began. "Hunters are of both beast and man; you surely have realized this." Her accent grew thicker. "I can draw that experience of beasthood from your shared blood without it overwhelming you. That is my purpose, here in the Dream. Without such a release, Hunters will inevitably go drunk with blood."

Drunk with blood.

Blood drunk.

Ritsuka pondered those words. Was this what Gehrman was telling him about? That he wasn't the same as before? What did that mean?

"Should you choose to, I will be able to channel the echoes of blood that you have gained, and strengthen you." The Doll offered.

Ritsuka looked down at his hands as he flexed them into a fist.

He looked up at her.

"Let's do it." He said. "Give me strength."

The Doll nodded obediently. "Very well. Stand close. Let me channel the echoes within you."

Inching closer to her, the automaton kneeled as Ritsuka placed his hand within the space between her own hands.

Wait—her?

Ritsuka blinked, before he nodded to himself.

Yes, her.

A whistle of energy flowed around the space between the plain doll's hands and travelled up to Ritsuka's body as he closes his eyes.

A sudden rush of energy consumed him.

The young man's eyes widened as the power coursed through his veins. Whatever the doll had done, made him rejuvenated than before. He felt stronger, faster, like he could race Atalanta with confidence, like he could lift more than Heracles.

He felt the power.

He withdrew his hand a moment later, flexing it, as the blood of those he had slain had been turned to energy.

"I… wow." Ritsuka was speechless as the doll stood up.

He shook his head, and made a fist. Beneath the fabric of his gauntlets, he felt his command seals pulsate with strength. His magical circuits felt better than ever. He could feel his heart beating, pumping murderous blood stronger than before to his very being. He could hear it, like a killer's drum.

With a determined look on his face, Ritsuka knew that he was strong enough to kill that Cleric Beast.

"Thank you for this." He told the doll as he dipped, bowing to her. The doll cocked her head to the side, before bowing back, far more elegant than him.

"Farewell, Good Hunter." She gave him a smile.

He stalked over to his grave, kneeling before it and touching the chill stone. As the dream evaporated before him, the last thing he heard was her voice, ever so soft and gentle.

"May you find your worth in the waking world."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**WAKE ME WHEN ITS OVER**

* * *

Ritsuka found himself walking up the stairs of the dainty clinic once more as he returned to the waking world. He had an inkling that Iosefka was expecting his visits by now.

In Yharnam, he found it hard to find those who still had their wits about them. Much less those who were willing to talk to him without throwing insults and obscenities at him.

Iosefka was an uncharacteristically kind woman, in nature along with sound. Already, he could feel the fabric of his mask stretching as his lips formed into a small smile.

"Miss Iosefka?" He clenched his fist and gently knocked on the door.

A rustling of noise and the sound of floorboards creaked as Iosefka peeked through the cracked window pane.

 _"Yes? Ritsuka, is it?"_ She replied back, almost excitedly. Nary a few hours had passed, and already they spoke like old friends, to Ritsuka's pleasant surprise

"It is. If it's not a bother, would you happen to have any more blood to spare?" He passed her a few coins he found scattered around Yharnam. The townsfolk looked like they didn't need any use of it, so might as well use it to further along her incentive to help him.

He heard a small bout of laughter coming from the good doctor as she pushed the coins back under the door along with another vial of her refined blood, much to his confusion.

" _No need to pay. Please, accept this as a gift from me."_ Iosefka gave a small chuckle as Ritsuka picked up the precious vial. _"In all honesty, your presence alone is payment enough,"_ She said. _"You sound much better right now."_ The doctor remarked.

"Pardon me?"

" _Well, you sound much stronger, more confident. I'm sure that you have faced many beasts, I pray for a successful hunt for such a brave Hunter that you are."_

Even if it was only a chuckle, Iosefka felt a torrent of happiness rush through her first experience of hearing the stranger-not-stranger laugh.

* * *

_Arturia grunted, locking her famed blade against the creature's neck and with a push, slashed open the monster easily, staining her battle dress with purple blood._

_"Master, get back!"_

_Ritsuka huffed as the monster fell, fading away into golden light as he wiped the grime from his cheek with his white and black sleeve._

_He steadied his arm with his other hand and felt his magical circuits act up with the battlesuit as he aimed for the monster that leaped to the Saber servant._

_"GANDR!"_

_A hail of red and black energy shot from his finger-tips and tore apart the monster's neck._

_A clean shot._

_Like shooting stars, several arrows from the red archer soared through the sky. They rained down swiftly like missiles, ramming hard into an unholy fusion of war elephant and lion._

_With a grunt, Ritsuka turned heel and ran for immediate cover. He stumbled on the rocky terrain, before he dived into a ruined building._

_A strong breeze flew by him, and he watched as Beowulf leaped past him, Hrunting gleaming dangerously with purple blood. A grin on his face._

_The Master watched as the Berserker absolutely tore through the enemy frontlines like they were mere paper. Bisecting and cutting apart every monster he could find with ease and sheer brutality._

_Ritsuka looked away. Sometimes it was too nauseating to watch._

_A beam of red light flashed from above, and hail of arrows flew like spears of light. All over, he heard the sounds of bodies squelching, and the roaring of monsters as the battlefield was coated with blood._

_"RETREAT! RETREA-!" Their growing scuffle was thrown aside as a soldier's corpse was tossed further._

_Silence._

_"Good job, everyone!" Da Vinci's holographic form appeared in a blue light. "Emiya and the others managed to retrieve the grail. We'll be leyshifting out of here in a few moments!"_

_"Master!" The clanking of Arturia's armored boots alerted him of his presence. He stood up, holding his bruised shoulder with a grunt._

_Arturia stood, Excalibur shining bright as ever, even with blood tainted on the blade._

_He weakly waved at her._

_"Are you hurt?" She asked, a palm resting on his cut cheek as he gave a small smile._

_"Not that much." Ritsuka chuckled. "I can take more than a few hits, if that's what you're asking."_

_The Saber frowned. "Even so, you must take precautions, Master. It would not bode well if you were injured."_

_Ritsuka opened his mouth to reply, only for a rough hand to land on his shoulder._

_"He can take it." Beowulf grinned. "Master's a tough one, a small scratch won't bring 'em down."_

_The Master gave a small laugh. "I feel like you give me too much credit, Beowulf." He said. "I don't think I could ever handle actual fighting like you guys." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You guys look so collected and calm despite the brutality and chaos around you. How do you guys do it?_

_The Berserker rubbed his chin in thought as he impaled Hrunting in the earth. "Just comes natural, I guess. Fighting's second nature to me." He shrugged. "You get used to the carnage after a long time. It won't come to you as quick as you think, but it sure as hell gets the blood pumpin' once it kicks!" The Danish exclaimed._

_"Every battle is different for each warrior." Arturia added. "Some take pleasure in the battlefield, they relish within the chaos and thrill." Beowulf grinned at that. "Others are forced to fight for one's duty and honor. For the sake of their homeland and country."_

_She shook her head. "As long as one fights for a purpose, whatever it may be, one will overcome the brutal depths of battle."_

_"It must have been hard…" Ritsuka mumbled. Shivering slightly at the thought of engaging in a carnage such as the one he had witnessed with a monster. Still, he was thankful for their words. Both provided a perspective he did not have._

_He only wished that he would not have to experience that brutality himself._

* * *

The Cleric Beast shrieked.

It's hulking form and disproportionate arm swung haphazardly along the side of its body as the massive right clawed across the ground, making its way towards him with a menacing and guttural growl.

Faster, than Ritsuka remembered, the beast roared and leapt.

His coat ruffled in the breeze as he swiftly rolled past the creature, feeling the nails on its feet scraping against his withered hat.

Quickly, he stood up and transformed his cleaver and charged. The beast swung down with the heavier arm, just as he had expected. Gripping his weapon, he dragged the serrated teeth across the massive arm, earning an enraged, yet pained screech from the beast.

The monster turned and swiped its arm at him, only hitting the air as the hunter dropped to the ground skidding across the cobblestone with deft ease. The cleaver grinded against the beast's right leg, sending it down on one knee.

The creature left in a daze, Ritsuka swiftly brought the blade of his weapon under its hilt, then proceeded to swung the weapon across its stomach, gifting it a brand new shallow gash that weeped blood.

The young man backstepped as the beast screeched in agony. He dashed forward once more and-

' _No!'_

He hurled himself to the right as quickly as possible when his eyes caught the familiar sign of the beast's rearing leg shot forward once more-

Too late.

With nothing to be done, he braced himself, feeling the blow fully and gasping in pain, crashing through the window of one of the weather-worn horse carriages on the bridge.

Ritsuka groaned, by sheer dumb luck, he had managed to land on a spring mattress seat within the destroyed carraige. His hand patted his chest and he winced in pain at the fractured rib and bruising stomach.

He shoved his hand into a pouch and quickly took out a vial, injecting it straight into his legs, feeling relief washing over him.

The hunter did not have time to ponder when he heard the beast shriek once more. Cursing, he quickly grabbed his saw cleaver and rolled backwards just in time to avoid the blow that would have left him a smear on the ground.

The crackle of his blunderbuss caused the man-turned-monster to give out another screech as it backed up from the hail of bullets. Ritsuka immediately rolled out of the destroyed carriage, rushing towards the stunned beast and hacking its massive arm with the cleaver, dropping blood onto the cobblestone.

It gave a long howl, swiping left and right, alternating between its massive arm and its smaller left with a beastial force that made him wince with every screech it belloweed from its inhuman maw.

The times it struck him with its powerful blows made him feel like he was slammed by a jackhammer with claws. Yet strangely, it wasn't as painful like the last time. Not by a large margin, he gandered, but whatever the doll had done to him made him at least more willing to take hits.

Ritsuka sidestepped to the right just as the beast struck the street with its giant arm. To his surprise, the monster did not remove it immediately, grunting as it tried to dislodge its arm from the bridge's cobblestone with a growl.

' _This is my chance!'_

He acted with haste. Rushing quickly as the beast caught glimpse of his charge. Its maw opened to screech again.

"Shut up!"

This time, the hunter unfurled the cleaver from under the hilt and swung it upwards, silencing its roar as the blood-letting teeth of the saw blade clung to its mouth, greedily sucking the blood from within as its user ripped it out by force.

The beast's tongue fell to the ground.

His transformed weapons still high in the air, Ritsuka aimed lower and stabbed it right in the middle of it's chest. The hooked steel that stuck out of his saw cleaver dug deeper, only for it to be yanked away.

Ritsuka flipped the blade in reverse and let the serrated teeth bite into the wound. He grunted, swiveling his blunderbuss on to his back and used his left hand to dig the serrated blade into the wound as the saw slowly went down as blood dribbled onto the blade.

The beast moved to strike him with its left arm.

With strength, the young man ripped the chest open as he backed away. Rolling and landing on his rear as the beast gave a weak howl of agony. Blood continuously pouring down like a fountain from its chest.

The Cleric Beast limped towards him, crimson seeping from its wounds and painting the cobblestone a dark, sanguine, red. Its form, once proud and bestial upright, now hunched over and whimpering slightly, its giant arm shaking and struggling to even pull itself towards him.

It was on its last legs now.

Weakly, lumbered across the bridge to charge at him.

The young hunter didn't give it a chance.

A hail of bullets shot out of the blunderbuss and dazed the beast once more.

Ritsuka ran and climbed up its massive arm with ease. He raised the transformed cleaver high into the air.

With a single strike, the saw's teeth gave a delightful bite into the neck of the beast, severing the head from its body.

* * *

**Hunter's Dream**

* * *

"You said you found this within the Cleric Beast?"

Ritsuka nodded. "It dropped it from its left hand after I severed the head. It looked important so I figured that you would know about it."

Gehrman eyed the familiar item under his hat. Inspecting it closely as he nodded, a fond, yet sad smile on his face. "I do, actually."

The old man handed it back to the hunter. Ritsuka took it, examining it for himself. It was made out of decorative metal, shaped like a cross-guard, a little blue gem glinting within the middle, looking stainless and new as the day it was forged.

"This… is a Hunter Badge."

"...A Hunter Badge?"

Gehrman elaborated. "One of the badges crafted by the Healing Church, and given to the more common ranks among its warriors. The silver sword was a symbol of a Church Hunter long ago, Ludwig, the Holy Blade."

"I assume Ludwig was an important member to the Healing Church?" Ritsuka tilted his head as he glanced at the badge, feeling it weigh heavier than before.

The wheelchair bound man nodded. "Very much so. Ludwig was the first of the Healing Church hunters. Many of whom, were clerics. As it was, clerics transformed into the most hideous of beasts."

Gehrman chuckled. "You must have fought a Church Hunter gone mad."

"So that explained why he was guarding that place..." Ritsuka grumbled.

"Either way, you may show that badge to the messengers." Gehrman said. "Nowadays, no one outside of hunters themselves recognize the use of those badges, they're meaningless, in a sense." He gave a croaked laugh. "Well, except for the messengers in the bath, Who understand its profundity. Who knows, they may scrounge something up for you to use."

Nodding, Ritsuka silently left the workshop, badge in hand, and proceeded down the steps, waving hello to the doll as he approached the bath that had three messengers within.

He presented the badge, and the pale skeletons eagerly took it from his hands before quickly sinking down into the water. He waited for a moment, and they returned, atop their hands was a tied cloth.

With a confused frown, Ritsuka took it from them, the pale messengers giving silent cheers from their place in the bath as he walked away.

The cloth in particular was not anything special,it was tied up the top, with elegant, decorative golden lines sewn into the edges of the material, with a peculiar emblem stitched on the top.

Of all things, why did they give him this?

He entered the workshop once more to speak to Gehrman, only to find no one there.

Maybe next time then.

* * *

**Central Yharnam**

* * *

Ritsuka grunted as he pushed off the man-beast's bleeding body off his own. The creature's still burning torch and crude saw dropping to the wooden floor.

It had been four, maybe five hours ago since this Hunt began. It was difficult to keep precise track of time. He looked behind him and saw the same orange ray of light peeking through the doorway to the sewers.

The sky had stayed the muted orange of mid-sunset, and the city constantly swarmed with new horrors, be they birds and dogs swollen with carrion or the mad inhabitants themselves.

He wondered if this was some sort of punishment. The Dream had seemed an afterlife when he'd first arrived there, and in a way it was, but Ritsuka felt it was far too peaceful for him. If in a past life, he had failed to save precious lives within the singularities. Perhaps this place was surely the blood-soaked hell to which he would be sent to pay for them. The idea seemed insane to him, but the more he thought on it the less mad it seemed.

Here, he had no name, no companions to fight with hum and as sensible as killing beasts was, not much of a purpose either.

_'Seek Paleblood to transcend the Hunt.'_

No, that wasn't true. He'd let himself lose focus for a moment. Besides the Hunt, he had hope that a ragged note placed next to him in the clinic had purpose; that it wasn't a cruel trick or a meaningless gesture. If there was a chance, any chance at all that Paleblood, whatever it was, could remove him from this nightmare, he had no choice but to pursue it. All he had was the hope of escaping this damn Hunt and returning to Chaldea.

The alternative was to die, as he had thrice already.

That was no alternative at all.

The sound of rapid footsteps and creaking floorboards alerted him of the man-beast's companions heading towards him, probably having heard of the fight.

Ritsuka cursed.

Thinking quickly, he dived to the right and into the broken window that was once obscured by old wooden barrels long broken due to his little skirmish with the infected Yharmanite.

Thankfully, he landed on the wooden rafters just an inch away from falling. He immediately hugged the wall as the snarls and growls of man-beasts neared closer.

He looked around. All he saw were a bunch of old wooden crates and barrels with two corpses hanging from the ceiling.

Damn it-wait.

His eyes turned to the right, spotting a window hidden by wooden barrels.

A way out.

He maneuvered past the crates quickly, nearly stumbling and falling down to his death. With a grunt, he shoved himself into the wooden barrels, easily breaking them and promptly face-planting on the ground.

 _'That was embarrassing.'_ Ritsuka groaned. He hoped no one saw that.

A cough.

Ritsuka looked up from his position on the ground.

In front of him was a figure.

Garbed wore a crow-like garb; of the darkest ebony and a feathery-like cape to match. The figure's clothing underneath held on to a peculiar short sword from the belt and he frowned at the figure's strange mask that poked out like a beak, eyes shadowed beneath the hat.

The stranger looked like a crow, he thought to himself.

"A hunter are ya?" She spoke to him, an older tone of voice with a peculiar accent different from the rest of the Yharnam natives. It reminded him of Scathach.

A woman?

"You don't seem to have good instincts, boy…" she admonished very lightly as he stood up. She eyed him as she crossed her arms.

"What a mess you've been caught up in," The woman chuckled at him, her feathered cape shook lightly as she shook her head at him. "And tonight of all nights," She continued on in her seeming amusement.

Ritsuka could only smile lightly as he rubbed the back of his head nervously, listening to her.

"Oh well... here," she began again, unfolding her arms to extend her left one forward. His eyebrows lifted as he spun his eyes around to look down at them. "To welcome the new hunter."

Very carefully. he raised his own fingers to grasp the items in her own grasp, his brow furrowed down at them.

Bits of parchment?

"They're Bold Hunter's Marks," The woman spoke aloud, as if reading his curiosity-filled expression. "They allow you to reawaken at any lantern you've lit."

Very useful indeed.

Ritsuka dipped, bowing at her. The woman raised an eyebrow at his gesture.

"That's very kind of you; thank you very much." Ritsuks smiled at her gratefully. It was nice to find another friendly face.

She merely waved his comments off with a literal wave of her right hand, her expression unreadable behind her mask.

"Um... I'm Fujimaru. Ritsuka Fujimaru," He introduced himself in another smile, extending his now free right hand to be shaken. She stared down at it for an uncomfortably long time before finally seemingly extending her own hand to shake his. "I apologize if I disturbed you earlier."

"Think nothing of it," She merely shook her head to

dismiss the matter off. "Eileen."

He blinked at her, unsure.

"My name." She clarified in a nod of her head, seemingly frustrated with his carelessness. He couldn't help but chuckle nervously once more, briefly shutting his eyes in embarrassment, he pulled down his mask and hat as he tried to hide his nervousness.

If Gascoigne was quiet and strict, Elieen held an aura of mysteriousness and authority that he couldn't help but be reminded more of Scathach.

"Ye don't sound like you're from around here, do you...?" Eileen asked him in her deep tone of voice, tilting her head as she brought her arm back to fold them once more. "Do you hail from the East?"

He nodded. "You could say that."

"And a young one at that." Elieen drawled dryly. "Whatever made you want to associate yourself with this place?"

Ritsuka looked down. His command seals pulsating slightly. "I needed to find a way home."

"Hrm... I see," Eileen intoned out toward him before turning her mask-covered face to watch the sewers on her left, arms still folded. "Seems to be a thing with hunters nowadays," She continued through her peculiar accent, a frown in her words. "Well, the point is, ye're here now," The woman re-adjusted her cape as she turned to face him. "You should prepare yourself for the worst."

The woman looked away from him. "There are no humans left in Yharnam," She muttered. "They're all flesh-hungry beasts now."

"That's not true." Ritsuka frowned. There were still sane people left. Iosefka came to mind.

"Oh?" He could practically see Eileen raise an eyebrow behind her beaked mask. "A bit of naivety still left in ya?" She chuckled. "Pray tell. Who have you met that didn't want to kill you?"

"Gilbert, for one." The young man proceeded to list with each finger. "Then there's Miss Iosefka down by the clinic, and even Gascoigne."

"Gascoigne?" Eileen whipped her head back to face him. "As in Father Gascoigne?"

Ritsuka raised an eyebrow. Father? Like a priest? Was that a rank? "Do you know Gascoigne?"

"Yes, I do actually," She shot back suddenly, eliciting a wide-eyed frown from the listening youth. "The old hunter Gascoigne? Of the Healing Church?"

He was part of the Healing Church? His brows furrowed. Hm. Nevertheless, he nodded.

"I see…" Eileen confirmed for him in her hard tone of voice. Ritsuka nodded dutifully as he listened and she tilted her head to her side horizontally as she continued. "I won't ask why you're asking such strange questions... but..." She began on before finally finishing her statement. "You should focus more on your _own_ duties as a hunter."

"I will. I'm sorry," He apologised over at her, rubbing the back of his head in a display of his old habit. "Thank you for helping me... and for your information."

"Just... keep your hands clean, won't you?" Eileen shook her head at him as she watched him carefully. He blinked at her, unsure at her words' connotations. "Your job is to kill _beasts_... not people."

"I would never." Ritsuka shook his head. He couldn't, rather he wouldn't. Why would he? He had a good intuition on who was sane of my mind and who were deranged. It was his duty as a Master of Chaldea to protect human order, now as a hunter, to protect those who were still human.

"Good," The experienced hunter looked pleased as she nodded in satisfaction. "See that you don't." Seeing the young man's firm nod, Eileen turned back from him. "Now, enough trembling in yer boots…"

"A hunter must hunt ."

He left not a moment later.

* * *

A music box was playing somewhere. It took him off guard when the faint chiming reached his ears.

After all the beasts howling, trolls groaning, and the clashing of steel, it seemed like such a soft noise didn't belong echoing through the streets of Yharnam.

Ritsuka looked up at the ledge above, stepping to the side as the ogre he had just killed fell to the ground. He wiped the blood off his coat and swung his cleaver free of blood. He squinted his eyes at the dim light streaming through one of the windows up above. The faint smell of incense lingering above.

Someone was still home, but... who would be playing a music box, on this night of all nights?

The young man gripped the smooth iron of the ladder and tried to keep his eyes above as he climbed. He pulled yourself over the top, looking up at the house. A light flickered behind the window, and a lantern glowed outside it. Ritsuks could now strongly smell incense wafting through the open window, and hear the music box, still chiming the same tune.

"Hello?" He called out, trying to peer through the curtains. Past the chains and iron cage protecting the glass, you saw a small collection of colorful glass bottles on the window sill inside. He reached through the bars to knock on the glass.

"Is anyone in there?"

The box slowly wound down, and he heard small footsteps slowly come closer to the window. So someone was inside. He waited patiently as something scraped against wood inside, then creaked as something was put on it. He narrowed his eyes, trying to study the faint shapes behind the curtain.

_"Who... are you?"_

The voice was tiny, delicate…

Ritsuka blinked.

A child?

The curtain rustled, and through the gap, he caught a glimpse of yellow curls and a pale nightgown with white lace.

Who let any child live in a city like this, especially one so young?

_"I don't know your voice, but I know that smell... Are you a hunter?"_

"Yes," Ritsuka nodded, softening his voice when he heard a small yawn. "Did I wake you? I'm awfully sorry. I know it can be hard to sleep with all the beasts around."

 _"It's okay,"_ She replied, even as she yawned through her words.

He saw the silhouette of her arm raise as she rubbed her eyes. _"If you're a hunter, then... please, will you look for my mum? Daddy never came back from the hunt, and she went to find him, but now she's gone, too... I'm all alone... and scared."_

Ritsuka's brows furrowed in thought.

"By chance… is your father's name Gascoigne?"

Her head perked up in surprise. _"Yes!"_ She nodded excitedly, hope in her eyes. _"Do you know my Daddy? Do you know where he went?"_

"Yes." He said. "He helped me a few…" The young man looked up, frowning at the still orange sky. "...hours ago. Unfortunately, we parted ways after that. I don't know where he currently is."

_"Oh…"_

The girl's voice trembled and cracked in disappointment and sorrow as she teared up.

"But I'm sure he's out there somewhere in Yharnam with your mother." Ritsuka quickly interjected with a concerned face. "Don't worry, I'll find them and bring them back. I promise."

The little girl gasped and clapped her hands excitedly as he bowed to her.

 _"Really? Oh, thank you! Wait, don't go yet. I mustn't forget to give you this..._ " She trailed off as she disappeared deeper into the house, leaving him alone on the other side.

He stood there for a moment, then jolted when a tiny hand suddenly stuck itself out through the gap in the curtains. It held a small cube with delicate decorations on the sides.

Ritsuka slowly reached through the bars and took it from her, turning it over in your hands. It was heavier than he expected it to be, but it didn't rattle when he shook it, except for the lid popping up. He lifted it up, then smiled when the same chiming that drew him to the girl filled the air.

This was her music box.

 _"If you find my mum, give her this. It plays one of daddy's favorite songs,"_ The girl explained, drawing her hand back inside to the safety of the house. She shifted in her chair, the uneven legs bumping against the floorboards as she adjusted. _"Whenever daddy forgets us, we play it for him so he remembers."_

She giggled. _"Mum's so silly, running off without it!"_

"I'll make sure she gets it," Ritsuka promised, running his thumb over the discolored paper pinned to the underside of the lid.

Whatever had been written there had long since faded, except for two names that still stood out, however faintly. Gascoigne-he recognized, so that would mean the second name, Viola, would be the mother.

Now he needed to ask Gascoigne why he left his daughters alone during the Hunt.

 _"M-My mum wears a red jeweled brooch. It's so big, a-and beautiful,"_ She added, tripping over her words. _"You won't miss it. Please, I know you can do it."_

Ritsuka nodded, watching her small hand reach through the gap in the curtains and wave good-bye to him.

"Go back to sleep, little one," He ordered softly. "I'll be here when you wake up." He watched her shadow as she nodded and scooted off the chair, disappearing into the house.

The young hunter closed the music box and tucked it into his coat pocket, the last chimes disappearing into the still night air.

' _Gascoigne… where are you?'_

* * *

The graveyard was much darker and much more twisted than he had expected when he first glanced around.

Everything was tilted to the side—the gravestones, the giant statue in the center, the sculpted lantern holders. Most of the iron lamps were broken, but two of them still had some light left, casting what little they had left over the strangle placed gravestones.

Ritsuka had never seen anyone buried in a circle, but he had seen stranger things already in Yharnam, and he felt it wasn't his place to judge how others disposed of their dead. He wasn't sure what the place would have looked like before the night began.

The young man was torn away from your daydreaming by the sharp ring of metal on stone. He turned his head, followed the noise, which trailed back a tall man in the back.

He had his back to him as he slowly raised his axe up, then let it fall onto the beast below him. A set of limp bodies were beside him, laying in their blood on the ground, hacked to pieces— enough that Ritsuka weren't even sure if it really was two separate beings.

He'd obviously been through, whoever he was, although... he was sure he had seen that scarf before.

With a final swing, the head of the beast fell off and rolled across the ground. He caught the glint of the lamplight in its blank eyes as the rest of its body went limp.

_"Beasts all over the shop,"_

Ritsuka heard from the other end of the graveyard.

_"You'll be one of them, sooner or later."_

The young hunter frowned, stepping forward. He couldn't be sure, from this far away, but... it could be, couldn't it?

The soft "er" and "s," the quiet rasp... no, rather, it couldn't be anyone but him.

"Gas... Gascoigne?"

He turned around, and the hunter lit up, raising his hand to wave to him.

He grinned, and Ritsuka could see as much from where he was standing with the way the light reflected off his teeth, but his canines seemed a little too long.

His arm slowly fell, his feet wanting to move, his body wanting to shake, but he couldn't. This was the hunt, but... this couldn't possibly be the beast.

There had to be a mistake.

He opened his mouth to call out to him, but he paid no mind.

He was much more focused on dashing across the graveyard and aiming his gun for his head. Ritsuka dove behind a set of gravestones, covering his ears as the shot hit the stone and sent dust raining over his head.

"Gascoigne, stop!" He feebly tried to say.

The only response he got was the flat of the man's axe swatting him across the graveyard.

Ritsuka tumbled, crashing against the hard stone and hitting the metal fence with a wheeze, shock in his eyes.

Quickly he tried to grab his cleaver and-

Too late.

Gascoigne's axe swung down on him and the young man only knew darkness.

_"Too Proud to show your true face eh? But, what a sporting hunt, it was!"_

* * *


End file.
